The Winchesters angel
by An angels grace
Summary: It's like any normal evening the Winchesters spend together, but this one is different. Across the stretch of the night-sky, a star begins to fall but is it a star and is it really falling? When a man claiming to be that of an angel named; Castiel, comes to Dean in the midst of a soberly-drunken state of mind to inform him that both he and his brother have a guardian angel. (AU)
1. The angel, Castiel

**A/n: A long-lasting story regarding the subextual romance between characters, Dean and Castiel from the Tv show; Supernatural off the CW.**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Supernatural or the characters. I do NOT own the actors or characters sexual orientation, just the story and my fantasies.**

* * *

**Dean**

It's roughly fourteen degrees outside with the sun shining and the skies seemed to be clear as ever on that day, June seventh as of 2013. It seems like the perfect day to pitch a campfire with your little brother and a couple of friends as night begins to stretch across the vivid fresh-summer sky. Around you scatter wrappers and beer bottles here and there, not enough surely to dub you as; drunk but enough to say you've had a few, judging by the stale reek of alcohol on your tongue. You're sober enough to walk in a straight line and pronounce words sharply but as your emerald gaze aimlessly drifts to wander the starry void of the dusk-night sky, a glowing haze catches your eye and for a moment you swear its shape comes in that of a human.

Now, just a little over twelve years on the force you would think that this sight could be depicted as none other than a puny meteor, but as it hurdles closer into view with something long and what is that..? Attached? begins to near the planet more and more until contact sends noticeable trembles throughout the earths soil, knocking you nearly off-balance as the screech of startled wild life lift into flight to flee the area. Trees begin to buckle over, one nearly crushing your baby - a sleek jet-black Chevy Impala - with its brute force from whatever knocked it over. At first, it seems highly unlikely that the impact of a person could cause such a scene so you guess it had been space debris but when the distant shadow of something man-like begins to make its way impossibly to its knees, you begin to think you're crazy, but really.. Are you? Sure you've had a couple of cold ones, but you knew for a fact you weren't bitterly intoxicated. If anyone knew, it'd be yourself.

Sam, your little brother doesn't seem to stir - having had too many drinks for his own good that night after the celebration of his victory to a case that had been an apparent, 'impossible win'. Being he a bad-ass lawyer, it made sense - and despite Battle: Los Angeles going down not too far away, it didn't seem like anyone had begun to come close to the brink of consciousness. Men here and there, littering the forest floor within tents. A total of four people were there, not including yourself. Sammy, you're little bro, Bobby, an old drunk who was more a father to you and Sam than your old man ever really was, - but you'd never admit it, no doubt - Ash, a mullet-haired nincompoop-redneck-genius that everyone has just gotta love, and Garth, the oddball of the boys.

Brushing the thoughts away swiftly, your gaze doesn't waver regarding the form of the man - or what you assume to be one - several feet away. At first, light fright rises to your chest but it's dismissed by curiosity and disbelief. It wasn't possible for _anyone_ to get up even to your knees after a fall like that.. The impact would have crushed every bone in your body if it were human. What an insane way of putting it, 'if it were human'.  
Come morning you'd find 'it' in a lump of deteriorating mush. The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but you force yourself to stalk forwards after drawing a nine millimetre, a permitted weapon to carry in the states, especially being a member of the Kansas police force. Though it was a small town, they were some of the best.

As you pass by your unconscious brother, drool seeping from parted lips, you nudge his side gently but when you see he hadn't stirred, you roughly begin to boot at his side as quietly as possible. A grunt escapes the tall mans lips, eyes blinking open lazily and narrowing at your appearance,

**"Deeeaaaannn.."** His voice is drugged by fatigue the reminder of alcohol, but you continue to prod until he is sitting upright,

**"What the hell, man?"** His form begins to slightly descend, but you refuse to let him drift off again and frustratingly drag his drunken-ass to his lazy feet. At first, Sam looks as though he's about to vomit but when hazel eyes lifts to see someone on their knees a few feet into the sea of nature, his breath calms,

**"What? It's just some guy, man.."** But as his wise and tired eyes catch the fallen trees and barren area around that figure, he begins to question physics and think up reasons about how this happened,

**"The hell happened here?"** Sam breathes out and leans on your shoulder for support, the reminder of the many beers he ingested beginning to take its toll.

You see as the figure's head tilts up and for a moment. You catch a flash of blue where two eyes should be and then, it's standing. But.. Something a bit is off as you notice two formations behind it's back. They're large and seem to be.. Attached? You guess it's a birth defect or something, but as the strangers structure teeters slightly, you see as they actually move to bristle with the movement.

_"What the hell..?"_ You find yourself silently whispering, the grip on the weapon tightening significantly.

They approach closer and now the faint glow of embers within the distant fire-light begin to light up their features so you now can depict that they're male, but how are they even alive? Something was terribly wrong about this man, so you raise your weapon and open your mouth to bark out an order but you're silenced as the electric blue glow of eyes return faintly, receding to their normal shade of whatever hue. The gun now wavering in your hand, the non-human entity stalks closer and closer before you finally find the will to snarl,

**"Stop right there!"** You're surprised as this mans momentum comes to a halt, their head tilting ever so slightly to the side out of confusion to the voice. Another step,

**"I said stop!"** Another, until finally he's within spitting distance and is gazing intently into your eyes as though searching for something. The gesture rises up your suspicion and nerves against your will.  
Sam at your side fidgets nervously, sensing your foreign vibe and taking a step to stop whoever this is with a significant height advantage, but a hand from the stranger is raised to your brothers forehead to press two digits against his cranium, causing him to buckle over and be rendered unconscious on the forest floor with ease.

Now, you're alone.. The stare lasts many long moments, your gun beginning to bounce uncontrollably until their intensifying look falls upon the weapon, considering the possibility of it for a moment before tilting his head to the side,

**"What the hell are you..?"** Your voice is hardly a whisper, fear in your heart and determined courage there as well. They seem to react to your words and then a voice gravel-deep and rough speaks out, but you don't expect at all what they say,

**"Hello, Dean Winchester.** They pause, mesmerizing cyan orbs ignited with pride,

**"My name is Castiel.. I am an angel of the, Lord."**

* * *

_'My name is_ Castiel.. I am an angel of the lord.'

Wait what now?

I blinked a few times, the gun still bouncing within my grasp as though this were my first occasion with the damn thing. What was I so afraid of? It wasn't like this guy was for real anyways. Maybe I did have one too many drinks and this was all some drunken illusion, but as I try to pinch myself back into the world of the conscious, I catch his gaze regarding me carefully with mesmerizing blue eyes, a set of blue I have never seen belong to a human-being before,

**"Like hell you are, now ****_what_**** are you, damn it!?"** I snap, brows furrowing to the point where their gaze softens very slightly, head cocking off to the right like a damn cat,

**"I told you."** He breathes out calmly, cyan oculars returning to stare at the weapon pointed towards his upper torso. I could squeeze the trigger and say it slipped, or that it was out of self-defence but I couldn't will myself to pull the damn thing. What was the matter with me? I had taken out filthy-liars like this one before, along with many dirty criminals but for some reason I found this person innocent. I never could have killed an innocent person, but at this point I wasn't even sure 'it' even was human, let alone a man,

**"This is your problem, Dean.. You have little to no faith."** He says in a gruff tone, their head slipping back to its former angle. If I could compare this guy to anything, it'd be a frickin cat - wait what? Since when do I compare people to animals? _Jeez, you're such a girl Dean Winchester.._ I self-consciously curse at my self, but as I fade back into reality I could see how close this person was and how uncomfortable plus tense the situation was,

**"I'd have some more if you gave me some space."** I bite out roughly, glaring with emerald eyes towards this apparent, 'angel'. Whatever the hell that meant. Looking to and fro, the being named, Castiel took a necessary step back, his head dipping as though in slight shame,

**"My apologies.."** A gravel-deep voice replies and I do everything to argue with his formality, or whatnot. The only real person I knew who spoke like that was my damn brother Sammy. Yes, the same Sammy who was passed out just before me in a pathetic, drunken heap. Which reminds me,

**"Hey, 'angel-man' what did you do to my brother?"** I let out a growl, squatting to prod at my kin's and when I see he doesn't stir evening he slightest, Castiel looks confused again at the title I give him, but soon that look is replaced by rich guilt. What was with this guy anyways?

**"He's alive, there's no sense in being concerned. The night is necessarily war so the possibilities of hyperthermia are next to nothing."** He murmurs and I hardly catch it. For a few moments we lock stares, but I am to first to break it since I wasn't really in the mood for a damn, 'staring competition' or 'angel-games',

**"Yeah, whatever.. "** I shrug off his response, not really paying much attention until a hand rests on my shoulder as though reassuringly,

**"I have become familiar that this is a gesture of reassurance. Your brother will be fine, Dean. Come morning, he'll wake up without the aftermath of intoxication and with the memory of the best nights sleeps he'll ever come to imagine."** The dark-haired man says, and I tense up slightly at the contact,

**"Okay, then.. Can you umm.. Stop touching me?"** I ask a little awkwardly, not particularly fond of the 'touchy-feely' moments even if they were legit or not. The warmth on my body leaves and I feel like an ass-hole as his gaze wanders off a little hurtful. _Just what I need, a sad frickin angel. If what he says is even true, but those things behind his back speak out another story._ So as though on cue, his back is turned to me where my eyes could graze the informing presence appendages attached to the back of this guys body,

**"Are those.. Real..?"** I ask a little foolishly, feeling like an idiot for asking such an unintelligent question. He seems to sense this and turn around, the left wing twitched as though in response to my question,

**"As real as your existence is, Dean."** _Such formality.._ I bite my lip to keep from saying, returning two eyes back to stare at my brothers limp form. Come to think of it, I have never really seen him so vulnerable and small. Literally, the guy was a frickin mountain compared to me which pissed me off sometimes but it's not like he was given the choice to be this abnormally tall. I also notice the peace that's written across his features, not a single line of youthful age crinkled to the slightest. Maybe this guy named, Castiel - anyways, what kind of name was Castiel? - was right. I wondered though if he would think I was crazy the next morning when I tell him that I had the weirdest night of all time.  
Yeah that'll be fun, I can just picture it now,

_'Hey Sam, guess what? Last night I was sober and looking up at the pretty-pretty stars when something fell and then walked up to me saying he was a frickin angel! Cool right? Eh? Eh? Oh! He looks like a cat too when he does the head thing.'_ Yeah.. I wouldn't be teased _forever_ about that at all. Just as I was about to self-consciously let out a pitifully flat chuckle at the thought, I see that the blue-eyed man is now staring again,

**"Listen dude, if you actually are an angel.. Don't you think staring is a bit rude?"** I ask with an abnormally smug-look. At this he seemed to be slightly taken aback at my words and furrows his brows in response, turning away soon afterwards,

**"So why are you here, angel-boy?"** I ask, frowning at the nickname. What else was I to call him? Castiel? Nah, that's what you call someone when they're in trouble, especially with a name like that.. What about.. 'C' or something? No, that sounded like some stripper-reject. 'Tiel? Well it made sense with his eye color but it still didn't fit..

**"Cas.."** My thoughts are voiced aloud, receiving a slightly confused look from the man a few feet away from my taller form, slight embarrassment cloaking my features. _Way to go Winchester, you just made this all the more weird._ I let out a silent breath and scratch the back of my neck for no good reason at all. This was all a lot to process after all, but I was grateful that I wasn't one of those faint-at-practically-everything-for-no-reason kind of guy. The thought rose disgust into my throat. _No. Dean Winchester was nothing like that. Dean Winchester was the bad-ass cop who does what he wants and nearly gets away with it. Dean Winchester is the guy who can get any girl he wanted with the right sweet-talking. The occasional guy, but Dean Winchester no way in hell swings that way. Dean Winchester is the god of se-_

**"Is that an abbreviation of my name?"** My thoughts are interrupted by a rough sound, and I blink my way back into the present. Wow, did I space out _that_ often?

**"Umm.. Yeah, I guess. Now, why is it you're here, Cas?"** I ask, suspicion written with distrust across my features. You think this person would know a thing or two about human customs or something, but apparently not. Were all the angels up in heaven this up-tight? Realizing the context of my question, I frown and dismiss the thought from my mind. Since when did I buy anything he was telling me? Especially in, god or heaven or frickin angels?!

**"I am here because it was the will of our Father."** He says, seemingly unchanged by my vocal-attitude. Wait, did I just call myself moody? Perfect, just perfect,

**"And that is..?"** I try to pry, looking directly into those dual pair of aluminum-hard irises,

**"To be the Winchester's angel."**


	2. Murmurs of apology

**Dean**

_'To be the Winchester's angel'_

Wait, what now? What is that supposed to mean? I begin to question, suspicion rising to my chest in a manner that proves my distrust in this guy. What do you expect me to do though? You see some dude fall from the sky to discover he has _wings_ and is an, 'angel' but not only that, no.. But also that their, 'god' has sent him down to become Sammy and I's little diaper-baby guardian? Yeah, hell no,

**"Listen. I don't know what screwed up game you're trying to play here dude, but I'm not buying it."** I bite out a little more aggressively than I intended, and Cas seems to pick up on my attitude change,

**"Why are you upset, Dean?"** He asks, cocking his head to the damn side again like a frickin cat, not responding to my comment. Seriously, did all angel's represent mammals or something? I really hoped not because it'd be frickin weird. Rubbing the area between my eyes in light annoyance, I look at him with death arrows practically stabbing at the guy from all angles,

**"I'm not.. I'm not angry, it's just that you fall from the sky, claim you're a holy infant of 'God' and that you are my and Sam's little angel in a diaper. Isn't that a little strange to you, at all?"** I ask, voicing out my opinion with no essence of regret. Some people just needed to be told off every now and again, whether they be of a celestial magnitude or not,

**"I don't understand that reference."** He replies seemingly unaffected by my words, which surprised me slightly. Most people would roll their eyes or flick me the bird, either or really. He seemed to sense my awe and furrowed his brows a little more,

**"I didn't, 'fall' Dean. The definition of fall is to move downward, typically rapidly and freely without control, from a higher to a lower level. I had merely manifested my appendages later than usual and impacted Earth with the essence of my grace rather than vessel. An angels wings is the essence of their grace. It neither a physical, statistical nor psychological fixation of a matter but a mere creation of righteousness and revelation."** _Vessel?_ I wonder, and at the slightest idea of the reference - Ignoring everything else since I hardly understand a single word the nerd angel said - I narrow my eyes with perpetrating dislike,

**"You mean you're possessing some poor bastard?"** I ask, not entirely certain with what the answer may be, let alone if I want to know at all. Castiel furrows his brows further - which I didn't know was humanly possible, but then again, he wasn't exactly 'human' now was he? Dismissing my ranting, I glare his way and await a response,

**"Of the sorts, yes. I assure you, he is a devote man and he actually prayed for this."** The dark-haired figure replies seemingly untouched by my near-threat. What was up with this guy anyway? At that moment, a heart-stopping snap echoes just behind me within the depths of the forest shrubbery, sticks beginning to break from the weight of an unidentifiable source. Turning around to face my back against the angel, I eye the void of darkness beyond until something hurls itself from the bushes and nearly mauls my face until a blinding flash of ivory light ignites the world around me.

I shield my eyes from the blast, and once it's over I blink to find the stationary form of an over-sized human being, but something about them was far from human. Abnormally tall, claws for fingers.. This was a monster, wasn't it? Or some kind of nightmare I haven't yet woken up from. A hand clasps itself on my shoulder and I am tugged back behind the shorter mans form, the sudden manifestation onyx-stained wings spreading out to deliver a majestic appearance of this angelic being as though in protection. Wait, what? _Majestic_?

**"Flee, or die."** Castiel breathes out in a fierce tone, an echo actually emanating from his voice. For a moment, there's a piercing screech that begins to drone out my world and I begin to descend to my knees from weakness. Before I know it, my power over retaining consciousness fails as anything else and I slip into the pits of an ever deepening slumber.

The following morning, a set of familiar cyan optics are staring me down with curiosity and concern written across too-familiar features. For a moment, I think I am still dreaming or something until Sam's face is suddenly looming over mine, screaming out something I cannot understand,

**"Sam, your brother is fine. I made sure he hadn't wounded himself when he fainted."** The gruff of Castiel's voice echoes bluntly in my ears, a very faint buzz still ringing within my senses,

**"Don't tell me, 'he's fine'! I need ****_him_**** to say it, not you."** Sam is now standing defiantly against the shorter figure, but Castiel doesn't stand down,

**"Why is it you do not trust me?"** Blue-eyes asked, almost confused by my brothers change in attitude,

**"Maybe because you knocked me out last night. Yeah.. I remember."** He bites back.

Just about as Cas is about to retort Sam's comment, I finally speak up with annoyance obvious in my dry-voice,

**"Ugh... Will you two shut up? You sound like an old married couple, now can one of you help me up?"** I ask flatly, reaching a hand. Once Sam hauls my lazy-ass to shaky feet, I am a little unsteady and nearly falls over again if it weren't for my kid brother at my side. Hell, if I didn't want to throw up so god damn much I swear I could see amusement playing across Castiel's expression. Damn angel,

**"What the hell happened last night, man?"** Off to my left, Sam pry's with curiosity noticeable in his voice. I roll my eyes and grunt at the displeasure on having to lean onto another human-being to keep from buckling over, or rather yet, face-planting,

**"Well.. You were as drunk as a sailor, and then this guy came. By the way, what was that thing?"** My throat is dry, and it hurts to speak but I swallow it down with what's left of my saliva. For a moment, Castiel is silent and is regarding the two of us rather curiously before saying,

**"That was a Wendigo, or better yet, corrupted human-souls. This one had been stalking you and your friends throughout the evening. If I hadn't appeared, you'd be dead by morning or better yet, bound and stored underground for a later-meal."** Was this guy for real?

**"Right.. A Wendigo.. I remember you blasting this light mojo or something like that before it went berserk on me, so what knocked me out?"** At my question, Cas noticeably shifts, guilt written across his features as though he's hiding something and is worried I may become upset. Since when did people worry about my feelings?

**"I had unveiled my natural tone to the Wendigo as a warning, and you couldn't perceive the fabrication of my true voice, so you were rendered unconscious. I had assumed that you of very few individuals could withstand it, but I thought wrong. I apologize for the misinterpretation."** He says, looking at me with sad puppy dog eyes. For one second, and one split-second _only_ I want to put a hand on the guys shoulder and say it was alright. But no way was I going to do anything close to that. No way in hell,

**"Yeah you better be.. My head is killing me."** I gesture to my upper region, wincing at the concentration I put into keeping myself upright and conscious. How could some bodies voice put me to sleep? Sounds like something that would come out of poetry, or something.

Looking to my little brother Sam who had been patiently standing, I feel a bit guilty I hadn't clued him in on anything yet,

**"Right so umm... This is, Castiel. Go ahead, Clarence. Tell lil Sammy here what you told me."** I encourage, a smug smile tugging at my lips but it fades as the angel's head tilts off to the right again,

**"I do not understand that reference, Dean but nevertheless.."** There's a pause. A hanging silence that I must clear my throat to not be too involved in,

**"**I** am an angel of the lord."** He sees, not seeing the sub textual joke that we're supposed to be in on. Damn angels and their lack of senses of humor. But I've only met one - a pretty boring one - so how do I know if the others aren't fun? Whatever. This'll all blow over in a couple days time once 'God' understands that Sam and I aren't really worth protecting. Well, Sam may be but I am far from Righteous or, a Saint,

**"Right."** Sam says, not buying it which I don't really get. My brother's a faithful man who acquires church every Sunday with his girlfriend, Jessica. - which he's thinking of proposing to. Maybe Sam is still just a little pissy from being knocked out in regards to, a guy nearly half his size by a simple touch. Once Castiel's features intensify, the distrust and mockery begin to recede to a sincere watch,

**"You're serious.."** My brother breathes out, and I roll my eyes at the length of this conversation. I never really was one to get into this sort of social-thing. The only times I socialized for my own entertainment was to a girl which I was hoping to pick up that night, but even then I still disliked it,

**"Sam Winchester, I have been assigned by the almighty to be that of a watcher over you and your brother's well-being."** He states calmly, eyes focused and unfazed,

**"Like, guardian angel or something?"** Sam asks, lifting an intrigued brow. When Castiel merely nods once, the brunettes eyes widen in apology and wonder,

**"I-I'm sorry than, Castiel. I-It's a pleasure to meet you, really."** He says, offering out a hopeful hand. For a moment, Castiel regards it curiously, wondering exactly what the gesture means. I growl bitterly and snatch Cas's hand and drag it to meet Sam's, ripping my touch way, embarrassed soon after,

**"And, and I you, Sam Winchester."** The angel for a moment smiles, but its faint and I can tell it's a little for-show. Guess little angel-boy here needs training on human customs. Good job for Sammy, than,

**"Get a room you two."** I growl, turning and moving away from Sam's figure to wander a bit out further into our camp. My brother casts down a shadowy look upon me, but I merely smirk whereas Castiel is spaced out and confused. I still didn't understand how Sammy hadn't guessed he was an angel or something, the wings were kind of dead giveaway. However, I revert my gaze to scan for the ebony appendages, I look to see nothing there but a bare back. _What the hell?_ I shake my head and rub my fingers at the bridge of my nose, letting a silent huff of air release from my lungs.

Well this is just going to be, _great._

* * *

So, despite me waking up with a killer headache from hell, today's sunshine was beginning to shed some light on the subject. Unfortunately, the angel-dude thing was still here. Whatever he was, as much as I tried to get the guy to leave me alone, he opposed to my wishes and brushed off my threats as though they were nothing. This, 'Castiel' guy still insisted on being Sam and I's personal guardian angel, but that's not exactly cool with me, y'know? I don't want something on my criminal records - which I will eventually get - that I was, 'being looked over by an angel'. Yeah, I'd bet a bunch of those smug-ass creeps in jail would love to make me their personal, bitch.

No way Dean Winchester was going to be _anyone's_ bitch.

I let a slightly conflicted expression cross my features, deep in thought when a voice dulled out my senses. Blinking into the world of reality, I see that Sam had been trying to snap me out of whatever daze I was caught up in,

**"What?"** I ask, frowning lightly when my younger kin shakes his head and turns away, running a hand frustratingly down his face like he always did when he was annoyed,

**"You've been spacing out a lot Dean. I'm starting to grow concerned."** The brunette towers over me easily, but I only smirk and look away, wandering off from his taller form so I didn't feel _that_ short. Hey, I ain't no short-stack at all. Christ, I'm six foot! Sam's just this overgrown baby who still has teenage hissy fits and has man-crushes on angels. I wouldn't be surprised if he's PMS-ing right now,

**"Yea, yea, yea now what do you want, princess?"** I ask straight-faced, knowing well that Sam could probably put up with my bullshit for quite some time. You just gotta hit that right note and Sammy's evolved in moose-man. We've wrestled around a bit - unfortunately, not in the fun way - and even though I often come out on top, it hurts like hell to get in a lock by him. The guy's practically the Hulk come to think of it, but don't tell Sam that. I'll never hear the end of it,

**"Dean."** My brother warns and I wave him off, turning around to place two mildly obnoxious hands on my hips, staring out the window of the old country farmhouse,

**"C'mon, I ain't got all day."** I pry, glancing over my shoulder with a mocking frown cloaking my features but he doesn't seem to notice,

**"I asked you about Castiel. Do you think the guy's for real?"** Is he serious? Wait, those are his steel-pensive shoulders, yeah, he's serious.

I let out a quiet breath, wishing in all honesty that he hadn't asked. Truthfully, I didn't know what to think about Cas. He was too straight-faced and formal, almost too polite and come to think of it, quite intrusive of personal space. But then again, the dude was honest and almost too innocent if you get what I mean. Not to mention awkward, and though we've only known each other for about twenty-four hours, you get to know someone when they save your life and you accidentally eavesdrop on your little brothers conversation with the apparent-angel.  
Running a hand across my neck, I look over to Sam with slightly unnatural green eyes, speaking sub textually that I had no clue.

_Moose_ merely nodded, fixing his long hair back into shape, tucked behind his dumbo-ears. I teased my brother constantly about getting a haircut, but he refused and stated that he, 'liked it'. I never understood my geek-for-a-brother sometimes, but he's family. Then again, I wasn't too 'perfect' either at anything, really. The only thing I seem to be good at is getting girls, and even then I still can't hold a sturdy relationship. My job was another story. I remember that one time I had let some douche slip from my drunken grasp and get away, costing me a weeks suspension. Garth, my partner and best friend had tried to cover for my mistake but the deal went south as it always does. I guess I always had someone to pick up my mess after I did it.

The thought sends heated chills up my spine, and at that moment, all I wanted was to get shit-faced. I guess it's accurate enough to say that I was alcoholic, but I had reasons to be. I'm not one for the touchy-feely shit so you can kiss the opportunity of hearing my, 'shadowy background' goodbye,

**"Honestly.. I don't know. I mean, the guy pops up randomly out of nowhere saying that he's our little knight in shining armor and expects us to be okay with it. It pisses me off, actually."** I finally reply, looking to Sam with a near-flat frown. I wasn't angry, but I wasn't exactly in the best of moods. Right now, I just really needed a drink,

**"Yeah.. I get you."** Sam says, and there's a slightly uncomfortable feeling in the atmosphere, so I purposely clear my throat and sneak a glance at the door,

**"You hungry? I was about to grab something to eat. I don't feel like cooking tonight."** I admit, hoping that Sam will understand my hopes to get out of this place for at least a little while,

**"Yeah umm, sure. Thanks."** I roll my eyes at the understanding in his voice, snatching the keys to my baby off the polished side-table, trekking towards the door until stepping out from the living room and towards the door to the world outside. As the door pulls open, I check one last time for my wallet though once my gaze graces upwards I nearly lash out at who's standing there,

**"Jesus Christ!"** I holler, glaring with deadly green eyes the dark-haired mans way. A slight frown crosses their expression and I wanted to punch something at that moment,

**"No, I'm Castiel. You know that Dean."** He says almost too innocently and I grunt, shoving past him - which was a little more difficult than I thought. I swear he's made of bricks or something - Making my now angered way towards the Chevy Impala, I pull open the drivers door in a polite manner and step into my baby, the familiar waft of leather filling my glands until there is a stir of air that slightly brushes at my face. Off to my right I see the silent form of Castiel, his gaze fixed forwards towards the yard as though it were appealing and the only thing interesting enough to focus on,

**"What do you want?"** I bitterly ask, restraining my fluctuation in voice a little so I don't hurt his feelings. At that second, I understand my choice of thought-wording. Why was I concerned about _his_ feelings? I frown a little deeper and shake the thought curiously. Slight hurt plays across their features and I pretend not to catch it. It would be awkward if I mentioned it,

**"Nothing, Dean. I have been assigned as your Guardian and it is only logical that my presence accompanies you on your voyage."** He gruffly replies, that deep-voice dry as a leaf in the autumn. If I had a voice like that, I'd probably be taking Ricola twenty-four seven or something,

**"Speaking of which.. Why?"** He cocks his head to the side,

**"I mean.. Why did, 'God' have you or any angel in general watch over us? There's nothing special about the Winchesters."** I breathe out, wanting to know. For a brief moment I see a conflicted emotion cross paths with the angels facial structure, but it passes seemingly unknowingly,

**"I do not question our fathers will, Dean. I assure you that there is indeed something unique about you and your brother, or else I would no be here. There isn't much I can say, Dean. These orders sympathies belong to my superiors."** He informs me and I roll my eyes at his word choice,

**"Aww, Cas that makes me all warm and tingly inside."** I sarcastically bite out, earning a confused glance from the angel,

**"Never mind. Just shut your cakehole."** I threaten lightly and the man obediently complies. I was surprised he understood the reference of, 'cakehole'. Well, I shouldn't be questioning it now that the car was silent.

Inserting the keys into the ignition of my prized possession, I shift the gear and before we know it, we're on the road cruising roughly at about eighty miles an hour. I had always been a reckless driver, but I was taught by one of the best. Sure, I would choose this pretty thing over the cruiser any day but apparently I wasn't authorized to do so. Whatever, it wasn't worth arguing over which is ironic since I nearly argue about almost everything.

The drive is silent, so I crank up the radio to scan for any old time rock and roll, my favorite. I had always had a good taste in music, but Sam on the other hand.. Lets just say, I'd rather listen to frickin Bieber than the shit he puts on. The channel crisps into the smooth beat of, Hells Bells by ACDC once the static is drowned out by the familiar genre. Self-consciously bobbing my head to the beat of the music, I glance off to my peripheral vision to see the blue-eyed man staring at me curiously, confusion picking at those baby-blues..

**"You understand that it's rude to stare, right Cas?"** I ask, frowning and ending the momentum of my body to the music. Castiel nods, looking away to concentrate on anything but myself. It kind of bothers me but I don't exactly know why, so I brush it off.

As we veer into the parking lot of the beer store, I cross my fingers and hope that it's open. Once I catch sight of the glowing 'OPEN' sign, a content smile graces my lips. Pulling out the keys, I don't bother to check on Cas until I'm at the shops entrance, looking behind me to see if the angel was still there. Looking forwards, my breath hitches as I realize just how close the ebony haired figure was, practically exchanging breath with him,

**"Cas! Personal, fricking space! We've talked about this!"** I angrily say, taking a deep breath once we were about five feet away from one another. Guilt and hurt cascades Cas's expression but I say nothing,

**"Know what you're feeling? That's guilt. You keep this up, and you're going to feel that a lot more than someone should. Now, please.. Give me some space."** I say abnormally calmly, stepping into the alcoholic beverage store once he steps blandly out-of-the-way.

Walking seemingly neutrally into the small array of isles, I pick out a six-pack from the back shelves, only to return up front with the Tennessee beverage of Jack Daniels whiskey. Sure, the shit burned the back of my throat when I consumed it, but it was enough to clog up my judgement. Walking up casually to the register, I offer out a twenty-dollar bill and await my change. Taking the leftover cash and cruelly shoving it into my jacket pockets I exit the store to see that Cas is nowhere in sight.

For a second, I want to mutter, 'good riddance' but strangled it down. Maybe I was a _little_ bit too hard on him, but the dude should well-enough know about personal space. Then a thought hits me. He's probably still around, but is like really far way because I warned the idiot about personal-space and distance. Self-consciously beating on myself for upsetting another person other than Sam, I force the feeling back, cracking the cap to the mind-dulling drink, bringing the bottle to my lips and taking a much-needed slug. The burn makes me pull away sooner than normal, but the feeling subsides and I let out a content breath from the numbing sensation I get from the ingenious concoction. I guess my drinking problem was slightly out of hand, especially since I drank while driving.

Dismissing the concern, I revert back to my vehicle and drive off to god-knows-where in an irresponsible search for some fast-food joint. Since Sam practically ate rabbit food, I picked him up the ungodly presence of a salad whereas I grab myself the juicy form of a burger. _What beauty is, is a moderately portioned chunk of grease and meat._ I think to myself, taking one last long taste at the whiskey that slightly shook in my hands, I pull out from the lot and make my slowly intoxicating way home.

My name is Dean Winchester, and I'm an alcoholic

* * *

The drive back to the falling-apart farmhouse building was longer than the normal, my mind issued by the reminder of alcohol and the burning sensation of whiskey still lingering in the haze of my eyes. Though I had eventually pulled up into the lot of the two-story building, I could feel a sense of dread that Sam would question my state and we'd have yet another argument. That'd be the third one this week, I think. Yeah, we're not exactly Swiss Family Robinson-close if you will. We got along when we needed to, but the normal was bickering arguments every now and again. Plus it didn't help when the nerd lived with you.  
But even though with Sam being his natural, bitchy self, his girlfriend - who I loved to death - will step in when she can, easing Sam enough to back off on the dispute. If he stood down than I would. Dean Winchester backed down to no one.

However, as I lumbered a little unsteadily towards the porch of the ivory-hued foundation, I could hear the faintest disturbance of silence in the air, something similar to the ruffle of wings. I didn't need to turn around to familiarize myself with whatever my new company was when a husky-voice spoke out curiously,

**"Dean?"** It was Cas and I knew it. Biting down on the insides of my cheeks to keep my anger and easily annoyed state from emerging, I roll my eyes and spit out drunkenly,

**"What do you want, Cas?"** I say, and I could almost sense the angels disappointment. As I turn to face him, I take notice to the great deal of space between us and can't help but smile. At least he was getting the hand at, 'personal-bubble'. The memory sent a wavelength of annoyance throughout my form, reminding me that it had nearly taken an hour to explain the concept of this, 'oh-so-foreign-to-comprehend' ordeal. I mean come on, man! It's not freaking rocket science!

I bite down a snarky comment to the footage between us two men, but knew better not question these semi-decently uncomfortable terms,

**"I sensed your soul dim ever in the slightest, so I was concerned and flew here to check if you and Sam were alright."** He truthfully admits, suspicion beginning to rise to the fluctuation of his tone. I almost want to wave him off, turn around and stampede into the house with a smug grin, only to fall asleep or pass out somewhere along the way. But I don't and instead, merely let my eyes roll from one end to the other,

**"Well I'm fine so you can umm.. Shag off, or whatever.."** My shape begins to tilt off the side slightly, and I'm concerned in the slightest that I may buckle over when my shoulders are being pressed against the strange firmness of Castiel's chest. We're close, close enough as before so I could see into those Neptune baby-blues.

They were bluer than the sky itself as I look between them and the soft void above, comparing his irises to small dew drops that gathered upon leaves come the joyous time of spring. A patch shave emphasizes his features, though light coloured eyed dimmed by the strange seriousness and curiosity across the other mans features. Those features.. They look like they had been through so much hurt, so much pain that I just wanted to.. I wanted..

The hell was I thinking?! I in a frantic panic shove him aggressively away, casting a deadly glare off in the now shocked and confused angels direction as I bite out a rather raspy breath,

**"Don't touch me.." **I breathe out, my brows narrowing deeper and deeper until I heatedly turn my back against the dark-haired man and stomp off like a teenager towards the farm houses entrance. Too disturbed to really take much notice to the wobble and unstable feel in my every step, I trek towards the warm household and yank open the door to see Sam bewildered as I just shove by him. I could hear him calling out my name in wishes to get some sort of excuse - that I always had - out of me, but I was to unnerved to pay notice, let alone care.

That was the most unnatural moment I had ever shared before with another being. Another man, for God's sakes!  
Dismissing the thoughts hopefully, I stomp up the stairs towards my chamber, slamming the heavy-duty wooden door against the hinges and collapsing like a drunk against the soft of my bed, trying to get a sense of what had occurred just beyond the walls of the Winchester household. Castiel caught me off guard and I lost myself to my little girly wonders, perplexed by the serenity of his cyan-blue depths, depths that caught you similar to that of a riptide and you just couldn't get free, or at least without effort. I had wanted to move just a little closer, not close enough that our features brushed but enough that our breaths did. I remembered horribly that I had wanted for a slick moment to lessen that gap, and at the mention of the unmanly desire, I let out a furious snort and burrow my face into my pillow that I had my fingers dug into like some predator into its prey.

It made no sense at all, because I felt nothing when I was around him and for God's sakes, I knew the guy for a day or less! Plus he was a guy! A guy! No way was Dean Winchester - the man who could get any woman he wished, and get laid _whenever_ he wanted - upon any levels, gay. There wasn't a problem to people being gay, just as long as It wasn't me. I was no homophobe, not at all but the thought of me becoming in any form, intimate with a member of the same sex was enough to rise a near-existing bile to my dry throat.

Soon over time, I had begun to lessen the furious hold on the feathered material, letting my face sag helplessly against the white fabric until eventually I had let the sneaky clutches of venting anger get the best of me.

* * *

**Sam**  
Dean had just blew into the home like the aftermath of a hurricane, his cheeks unnaturally flushed to that of a fire-y red hue and eyes green and bottled with near-uncontainable fury and disgust. Sam knew that now wasn't the time to bring up any sort of argument in reasoning to what was up with his older kin, that much the younger Winchester was sure of. Dean only seemed to get like this when he had a rough day at work, or some asshole at the station would bite out some snarky comment on their family name's unimportance and history of failure.  
The thought too brought unnecessary chills of anger to the brunettes spine, but he had always dismissed them before they escalated into something more.

Peering outside to see if anyone was there, Sam saw no ones presence in the yard. Even stepping out onto the porch conceived no evidence to the reasoning of Dean's break down, as he calls them. Yes, Dean did have these moments all too recently, as was explained before.

Bidding the useless barriers farewell, Sam ventured back into the house to occupy himself with something other than his enraged brother upstairs. For a few long moments there was the stirring of heavy feet against hardwood, the clattering of furniture against floor and wall until eventually all was still once more. Though his brother was the eldest of the two, his 'tantrums' were much more frequent and common than Sam's. Jessica, his fiancé would eventually soothe him into a relaxing state of submission, but Dean.. Dean was a ticking time bomb, ready to go off with no wiring attached or warning. It was impossible to disarm that mans fury. He held too much in himself there, the pain, the guilt.. It's slowly but surely consuming his brother and every time he attempts to put an end to this wild-goose-chase of a problem, it'd only gradually get worse, so eventually, Sam just stopped trying.

There is the following maneuver of clambering up above, furious slugs against the wall or door assured him of another outrage. He had probably remembered something about what urged him into this state, as his brothers usual deep-thinking always got himself into.. Sam knew that Dean could go through a series of these outbursts in a day and come morning, he'd be completely fine and act as though nothing happened. The younger man let out a silent sigh slip through his parted lips, closing hazel-eyes and becoming thankfully grateful that Jessica wasn't here to experience Dean's rages.  
It's not as though she hadn't seen them before, but it wasn't as though the gentle girl had been exposed to the true, bottled up size of Dean Winchester.

It was harmless to think of this, seeing as he was alone in the downstairs living area until the instant disturbance of silence in the air proved otherwise. Blinking his duel hazel-irises open, his vision adjusted just enough to see the familiar form of that strangely blue-eyed angel from up above,

**"Hello, Sam."** Something was off, that much he could tell. Frowning very softly, the younger Winchester shrugged the feeling off and replied simply,

**"Hey, Castiel."** Though the words were simple, they spoke of a much greater potential. Sam wanted to ask what was wrong, being he the counsellor - practically - of the family. Dean had always picked on his brother because of the little side-ability, but the brunette had always brushed the teasing off easily,

**"Where is Dean?"** As if on cue, there with yet another turmoil of events echoing just up the stairs, and Sam ended up earning a painfully curious glance from the angelic man,

**"Upstairs, but.. But it's best that we leave him on his own for a while."** Sam bit at his lower lip, hoping that Castiel wouldn't notice the growing discontent in his own voice. Solemnly, the angel dipped his head and nodded, blue eyes darting away every time the Winchester tried to make eye-contact. Strangely, over the short amount of time they had know one another altogether, Sam had grown particularly and unusually fond of the angelic matter though it was evident that it could very well simply be because of his natural fascination of nearly everything and that of, God. Normally, Dean would have called him a girl or, a geek for saying this but at that moment, his brother had his own issues to sort out,

**"May I speak with him? I.. I feel I need to apologize."** Apologize? For what?

Suspicion rose in the lawyers chest, and Sam wanted to question Castiel for his request but bit it back self-consciously, so instead he merely replied with a question,

**"Why?"** Sam asks, natural curiosity and protection dripping from his voice. He loved his brother, no doubt and when someone shows up saying they should apologize to your upset family, than it's only natural to question or decline. It all has to do with _who_ is asking, and for the reason inflicted,

**"I feel I should let Dean explain this chorus of events to you, Sam if you don't mind. I'm sorry, but I sense that Dean may not be fit into allowing me to tell you."** Ouch, that hurt but not really because it was most-likely the truth and for the best. Letting a soft sigh escalate into a loud exhalation of oxygen, the taller man looked over to the shorter with understanding and stiffly nodded,

**"Yeah.. Yeah I understand. Go ahead, but.. Don't question him, it'll only make things worse."** Sam cautions before the angels presence from the rooms now non-existent company vanishes into thin air, and Sam is left to his own thoughts.

* * *

**Castiel**  
Sam had been a little uneasy about the idea of me seeing, Dean.. Why is that? Perhaps it has to do with natural, human trust-issues as I had overheard from a group of adolescent humans discussing the matter of former partnerships ending up, 'going-south'. I didn't understand the reference, though I roughly assumed that it was something linked to that of Avialae-migration.

My corporeal transparency of ebony-hued appendages spread, and I lifted from this space into an alternate dimension a few movements away into the reserved chamber of Dean Winchester. There was indeed multiple universes and dimensions within the dwelling of this world. For a lessser literary term, we call it multi-verses. For instance; one could be portrayed as present and dormant within a room downstairs of a home - as the recent event had previously been proven by, myself - then the next transferred to a solitary different dimension, or, 'multi-verse' and other words, upstairs. It was a difficult process to grasp the context of, but when the eventual occurs than it all gradually makes all the more sense.

As I look about my newly foreign whereabouts, I notice the clutter that shrouds the room. Broken applicants of wood scatter, distasteful across the floor, along with the poor state of a nightstand in a pitiful heap in the corner of the room. There were few indents into the walls with the faintest trace of a scarlet hue against the sturdy form, from what I assume to be the blood of the Winchester. As I look about some more of my surroundings, my surreal-blue gaze falls upon Dean's stable and stationary form. From the echoes that I sense from his soul there is a wavelength of solitary-confinement in his emotions, that their true bidding is forced back to a point of no return. I can feel the guilt and pain that pulses off his slightly shaken form, and all I wish to do at that moment is comfort him.

Frowning at the peculiar desire, I dismiss it temporarily for the moment and return to observing the Winchesters form. As I stretch my wings into the manifestation of this world, I take notice to the light disturbance in the mans shape, knowing at that instant he was aware of my presence so I no longer restrain my forbidding silence,

**"Dean?"** I ask, a very faint hint of hope in my voice. Hope that he will talk to me someway some how. I don't want to force anything against the chestnut-haired males will so I reserved my now-buried intentions of reaching into his mind to receive these answers. I wasn't like Uriel, my angelic brethren who would do anything necessary to obtained the righteous information he desired. It bothered me, but even after all these millennia's of being partners within our garrison, I never once deigned to ask.

At my vocal presence, I notice Dean stir but I am unaware with what emotion in exact. Anger, pain, hurt, want? I couldn't understand human drives, even after many months of prioritized studying, nor have I ever quite grasped the subject of human-feelings. For a second, I believe he's about to snap and cast me out of his life in completeness, but he doesn't and instead turns to face me, eyes green and stricken with a foreign appearance to say,

**"What is it, Cas?"** He is seemingly casual about my appearance, believing as though our strange interaction had never occurred. Something in my vessels chest tightens unknowingly, and I self-consciously blink in surprise to this physical reaction. Something about the green in Deans eyes put me off, and I had force my gaze away to keep from saying something utterly irrelevant and uncanny,

**"I umm.. I came to see if you were alright and to.. To apologize."** What exactly was I so uneasy of? To face him? To speak to? I didn't grasp the concept of the situation at all until the Winchesters form lifted off the spread of the mattress and descended his presence upon me uncomfortably surly. My wings bristle with unease as the taller figure says,

**"For what?"** He pry's and I swallow down the saliva my vessel had all of a sudden created. He still approached, and I felt my back press against the hard of the wall with my wings splayed out against the flat surface, wondering how I had suddenly gotten into this position. Furrowing my brows with confusion at his implication of words, my breath nearly hitches as our distance is lessened to a point where I could smell the scent of leather and rich cologne vibrating uncomfortably close to my shape,

**"For a displeasing infliction of angering you, Dean,"** I force back my unnatural nervousness that cloaked my tone. At once, I no longer feel at a loss for the understanding of this conversation and doubtingly begin to pick up on his approaching intentions,

**"I came here because I felt uneasy about your confliction, though I cannot contemplate why. So I wanted to say, 'sorry'."** I openly explain, hoping to drone out the alluring scent of the taller figures odor.

Green eyes scan my blue ones for many long moments, and I can't help but bite down uncertainty and the urge to begin to count every small detailing freckle upon the eldest Winchesters cheeks. My brows furrowed for a moment until our distance between one another pleasingly pulled apart, leaving my shoulders to relax even in the slightest as a confusingly amused grin picks at his lips, his lips that had been so close to mine.. I begin to feel a fluster or what I believe to be one, urge up to the presence of my cheeks but I dab the flush down as I press two joined fingers against my vessels cheeks casuallyto reduce the swelling of colour,

**"Alright then. Is that all, because I'm not going to go all Dr. Phil on you."** That smile.. Something about isn't comfortably right. It's almost a little bit.. Taunting? Teasing perhaps? But for what, exactly?

Tilting my head off to the side, that earns a laugh from the chestnut-haired man, only to leave me all the more dumbfounded. As I reached closer to his wavelengths, I noticed the anger, the hurt and the pain dissipate from existence. What had all of a sudden doused the fire-y presence I had sensed just moments before? I didn't understand and as much as I tried to grasp the concept, I grew more and more frustrated as I failed upon each attempt of thinking straightly,

**"Yes Dean... That is.. That is all."** I finish, shrugging my wonders off for a moment as I notice the brunette sheepishly grin. Come to think of it, I liked seeing him smile as I did Sam. Mortals content had always fascinated me for some odd reasoning, but every time I saw the Winchesters grin, even in the slightest but Dean's was always more genuinely intriguing. I felt weight lift from the pressure of my chest, realizing now that the look In Dean's gaze had significantly changed to a taunting glow to a now, concerned aura I blinked back into the world of the existent and manage out a rough,

**"What?"** Dean is now grinning wider than before, a chuckle escalating to a hearty laugh from the adults lips. I don't bother to question it this time and instead, nod to myself, spreading my valiantly feathered wings, taking off into a world of another existence.

When I leave, I don't catch the disappointed look in the FBI agents eyes or the sagging lowness of their shoulders. Even as I take off and focus still so intently on this peculiar human, I don't even take notice to the slight mouthing of my name as I disappear from this worlds presence.


	3. Raised from Perdition

**A/n;; Hey peeps, thanks for sticking with me till this point! I appreciate it, especially this being my very first fic. I hope it's suitable to your tastes and preferences. If not, then for that I apologize.**

**Disclaimer;; I do NOT own the show, nor the characters. It is Eric Kripkes - oh so fine - work and I only support the story. Kind of, I guess.**

* * *

**Castiel**

I had left the Winchester household in a hurry after Dean and I's.. Interaction. The memoir sent a slightly uneasy chill up my artificial spine, but the odd thing was that I didn't feel disgusted or bothered by the thought and instead; warm. Narrowing my brows very slightly to no one but myself, I wondered what the feeling could mean though found no logical explanation to the occurrence. It was strange, to be that close to a human and have a tenseness thriving between the two of them. I tried to concentrate and comprehend the situation we had been in, but dismissed it soon after. Luckily, there wasn't any angelic presence where I roamed in this heaven. Indeed, I -being an angel - enjoyed roaming about mortal heavens, seeing what they had conjured from the will of their mind and how after-life appeared for them as. In this specific dimension, it was fixed entirely on this one old man in the late thirties who had drowned unfortunately in his bath, and it was peculiar to see that this heaven was made nearly entirely of water.

Gazing intently to the sun that beat down handsomely on my wings, I pushed my relaxed form from the indent within the golden beach-sand, spreading enlarged ebony appendages to their full potential and lifting off to cross into another dimension, a dimension away from heaven and to that upon Earth. I had always found humans to be strangely intriguing creatures of Fathers imagination. So reckless with faults but even as their souls shone dim, there were still a select few of individuals that would surprise me time and time again. I had noted those people as extra-ordinary.

Resting my head against the firm of my vessels chest, I sat upon the stiff of a park bench, staring endlessly at the dark platform of asphalt beneath my feet, stuck in a deep train of thought. Dean was one of those people, along with Sam. The Winchesters were a peculiar bunch, but as much as I'd tried to focus mainly on the _two_ brothers, it always seemed to fix primarily upon Dean. Knitting dark brows together, there was a flutter of wings not far off from where I sat in silence. I knew not to fear or be hostile towards my fellow brethren, so as I fixed my gaze off left to eye my newly arrived brother or sister, my blue eyes widened slightly at who was there,

**"Balthazar?"** Shaky and oddly small I said aloud with noticeable shock and awe in my naturally deeper tone. It didn't seem real, because the blue-eyes of my current vessel had been there when he had his wings singed into the earth. Scorched brutally unto the flesh of the very fabric of a world he and I had both studied and stood by together as it bent and broke into its very creation. We would in iridescent forms of light, travel over vast oceans and landscapes of hard packed earth in an array of colours. I could recall feeling a sense of peace being with Balthazar, though I could never understand. Then several millennia later, once the great rebellion had overthrown the host of heaven, I had watched _him_ die,

**"Hey, Castiel,"** A French-twisted voice spoke out, the form of a dirty-blond man turned to face his own shocked expression against mine, a smile playing innocently across his lips,

**"Long time no see, brother."** l still stood there, consumed and conflicted entirely by the awe and slight amazement as the cyan of human-eyes roamed an old comrade up and down, trying to focus blearily if they were truly here or not. I had managed to escape the brink of falling victim to that of a daze, and at that moment, a hand rested gently against the crevice of my shoulder, a hand lifting my chin to peer into endless storm-grey irises, cyan mingling with the battlefields of silver hued optics.

**"How are you.. But you,"** I breathed out the words, still dumbfounded and overwhelmed with surfacing joy. Balthazar and myself had been best-friends, having fought together for many millennia and serve along sides on another since the Great Holy War - or better known as, the Rebellion - when Raphael, our wrathful brother had tried to allow the apocalypse to see itself through. Many of our angelic brethren had fallen under the fists of the archangels fury, though I at one point too. But due to Balthazar's loyalty, I had been spared. I owed this solitary individual so much, so much that I could hardly choke out my following words,

**"I-I grieved your death.."** A smile played at the French mans lips, pulling me into his taller and tender embrace. The gesture was foreign, though I even awkwardly caught on and lightly hung my arms around the other mans back. Once we had separated, Balthazar had a smirk plastered across his vessels features. Narrowing my brows questioningly at the expression,

**"I know, Cas."** 'I know?' that's all he could give to me? But despite this, I pried,

**"But your wings.. I saw them burn into the ground."** I ran a hand through my dark head of hair, explaining with noticeable suspicion knotting tightly in the box of my chest. Balthazar took a few steps away, pacing back and forth until replying solemnly with a hint of mischief behind his voice,

**"Yea, yea, long story short. One of our brothers hadn't entirely been loyal to Raphael and aided me into faking my death."** A smug smile twitched at the other figures lips, something playing behind light coloured eyes that I couldn't exactly comprehend,

**"I see. I am glad you are alive, brother."** A hint of relief flowed though the words as they rolled off my tongue.

As time carried on, I and Balthazar spoke endlessly about all that had occurred on either ends to one another since the ending of the war. Balthazar mentioned that he had even travelled back into time itself to undo the tragedy of the titanic but had been sent back due to orders from one of the fates. I tried to ask why he had done so, but the old friend avoided the subject in completeness. I didn't question him any further, and thus was when I - so foolishly - brought up the curious case of Dean Winchester.

The blond had listened intently and thoughtfully to my words, piecing together the fragments until speaking his opinion aloud,

**"You're falling for him, aren't you?"** I looked down, frowning in the slightest as I glanced back up at the other form with dreadfully confused eyes and a tainted emotion of denial,

**"That's preposterous, Balthazar. I still harbour my grace and the full of my wings. I haven't fallen for anything, nor am I 'falling'. We may be made up to that of our fathers emotions of love, though I couldn't first handedly describe or identify that I am or can be in love."** Love? I shook my head absurdly at the thought. - I hardly grasped the concept of the subject of family to humans, so how is it comprehendible that could I feel anything related to the uncanny attraction from one being to another at all? He knew I wasn't lying, being there nor sense in the sin. I had always been a dreadful liar - I felt no sort of attraction towards the eldest brother of the two, but there was this strange emotion that would burn in the midst of my grace that hummed each time I grew nearer and nearer towards the Righteous man. At my reply, Balthazar rolled his light eyes and argued,

**"Please. The way you speak so fondly of this so called, Dean Winchester is fairly similar to that of the description of affection."** Indeed I did feel a slight pull of interest towards the FBI agent, but not in _that_ manner. I had never felt what meant it to be in love, or be loved. - Seeing as there is a significant difference between the two - The attitude towards my angelic brethren was mutual, having that we were tied to one another - even the slimmest way possible - by the essence of our grace. That Is an angels greatest power. Their grace. It's what grants me my celestial abilities and without them, I'd be no less than a standard human,

**"I do not harbour any intent of romantic nor sexually-related attraction to the eldest Winchester, Balthazar I can assure you. I just feel the slightest bit more interested by he than Sam, his youngest kin."** I explained, but my friend didn't seem to be convinced by the retort. Thankfully, Balthazar no longer pressed and dismissed the subject to enter onto a new one,

**"Asides from all that. Have you been tuned in on angel-radio lately, Castiel?"** Their voice was slightly more serious in tone, and that slightly concerned I, the angelic counterpart,

**"I am afraid not. Why? What is it, brother?"** I ask, and for a moment Balthazar almost seems unnerved by something. Frowning at this reaction, I lean in to try and force it out of him through the intensity of unwavering and non-blinking cyan eyes. Everyone knows that I have never lost a staring competition, ever. Even though angels do not require the need to blink, they could hardly stand the intensity of my gaze, being a seraph but for other reasons I can truly never recall,

**"Castiel.. You should seek our superiors out for this information.. Not I-"**

**"Balthazar."** I warn, growing suspicion and urgency in my vocalization. For several long moments, Balthazar is still and silent, staring at the walk way just as I had done, before looking up with profusely strained grey eyes to bitterly say,

**"Lucifer's risen, Castiel... He's back."**

* * *

**Dean**

I took a significant step away from the now shocked and confused Castiel, Angel of the lord. I studied him, some amusement rising to my chest as I eye the dark-haired man curiously until speaking out,

**"If only that was it.."** I had said, and I waited for that head-tilt of his, almost looking forwards to it a little too intently. I watched him curiously as his chest rose and fell as though he had held his breath. Wait.. Did angels need to breathe? As he continues to do this, I see that he hadn't heard me and manages a gruff,

_'What?'_

The surprise and worry in his voice brought a laugh to my lungs, letting it slide out smoothly with content as he eyed me thoroughly to see if I was still angered, which I surprisingly wasn't. I had been buckling over from soft laughter, looking up to see dark appendages spread into existence and he disappear from existence. I don't notice that I was frowning, shoulders hanging low until a knock several minutes later at the door broke my daze. I shook my head from the foreign disappointment, gathering myself off my bed which I had fallen over on during my laughing spasm, approaching the door to sluggishly haul it open to hazel-eyes, greatly confused and concerned. Sam,

**"Hey man umm.. You okay?"** My brother asks and I roll my eyes, smiling very softly at the sincerity in his voice. Man was he such a girl,

**"Yea, I'm good. Why?"** I ask, now squinting my eyes with suspicion but my question and rough look doesn't seem to bother him at all. Sheesh.. I must be more of a girl than I thought,

**"Oh nothing you just ugh.. Blew in here like a storm and stomped off to your room like a moody-teenager."** Now it was his turn to smile, smugly of course. I sighed, waving him off as I wander over to my window, drawing back the curtains but flinching softly at the foreign reappearance of light,

**"Bitch."**

**"Jerk,"** I laugh flatly at the bickering nickname we give each other when arguing, running a hand down my arm self-consciously as though hoping to warm up my chilled form. I didn't know why I was so cold all of a sudden, seeing as it _was_ summer after all. I just felt kind of umm.. Lonely? Eh, great.. Now I'm a chick-flick-y, girl. Lovely,

**"So you want to tell me what got you fired up?"** Sam's voice breaks my silence, and I glance over his way with dimly amused eyes, eyes green and unusually droopy all of a sudden,

**"No."**

**"But, Dean-"**

**"Sam. I said, no."**

**"Well then how am I suppose to help you then?"** The tall mans voice bites out, irritation rising to his features,

**"Sam-"**

**"No! Forget it.."** I guiltily look down as he walks out the door, muttering something I think that was around the lines of, _asshole._ I didn't like being emotionally sensitive, let alone have anyone be aware of it. Regardless if Sam is my godforsaken family or not, I wasn't about to confess my problems to Doctor. Sam. Hell no. I didn't need anyone when It came down to that shit. Really, all I needed was silence, a bottle of alcohol and maybe a girl, you never know.

I let out a silent breath, motioning over to my door to close it silently after my brother and returning to the soft of my bed, stepping over the mess that surrounded me. At the reminder, I glanced down to examine my knuckles and wasn't surprised to see that one had split open, blood staining the pale of my fist whereas the others were just unusually swollen and a shade of purple. Not paying much attention to the stinging sensation that flared up my arm as I brushed my opposing hand against the tender flesh, I haul myself onto my bed and burrow my face into the cool of the plush, feathered pillow.

I closed my eyes, thinking of all the things I had managed to accomplish that day.

One: I offended an angel Two: I got shit-faced, than drove Three: I had been entranced in the eyes of a man. Four: I managed to have Sam think of me as a moody-teenager. Five: I had ram shacked my room and probably busted my hand doing it. Six: I probably greatly unnerved a very serious angel. Seven: I pissed Sam off for the umpteenth time this week. Eight: And last but obviously not least, I probably just changed my sexuality after that..

From as far as I can tell. I was pretty messed up, and maybe even beyond repair but other than that.. Good day.

Running a hand down the rough and slightly dampened surface of my features, I close my eyes and continue to drown my world away into the fabric of a pillow. I didn't understand myself sometimes. I mean, I could be the perfect douche one moment than the next a sappy teenager obsessing over their damn crush. The thoughts stirred away at the distance memories of anger I recently experienced, but didn't feel the drive to vent anytime soon. I was too consumed by my own petty emotions that I hadn't even heard the flutter of wings that broke the silence within my room,

**"Dean Winchester."** That voice wasn't Cas's. I look up with alarm at the sudden occurrence of a foreign voice, eyeing my newly and uninvited visitor suspiciously with untrusting eyes. I didn't need a frickin sign to see that this new guy was a angel, seeing as the odd glow in their eyes was writhing with whatever holiness an angel has or something,

**"The one and only."** I bite out a little cockily, earning a humourless and bitterly flat chuckle from the dark-skinned man, a smile tugging too earnestly at his lips. What was with this guy?

**"Cute, but lets get to grown-up talk can we?"** _That grin.. Something about it is twisted._ I silently ponder to myself, sliding a hand uncertainly under my pillow and feeling about for the familiar presence of a pistol that normally rested there. I look to eye the vacancy of protection, only to hear an amused chuckle echo from the angel,

**"Oh Dean, you never learn do you?"** That little shit. In his hands there rested the loaded form of my dark-hued weapon, so close yet so far away. At that moment, I knew not to piss this guy off, but despite myself I bit out roughly,

**"What do you want, feather-ass?"** At my insult, that grin only crookedly broadens. It was too dark, too writhing with blasphemy that I gritted my teeth against one another,

**"Well, I did want to take this the nice way Mr. Winchester but your attitude seems to have enlightened me of a brighter idea."**

**"Yea? And what is that?"** I ask, narrowing my eyes darkly to the tall man,

**"Well, I'm no one to lie so basically, your life. I want you and your little brother, Sam dead. Well, someone else does, but I'm more than willing to carry out **_**their**_** request."** The hell this guy think he was? At the so simple reply, I push myself off the sheets of my bed and glare with deadly emerald pairs towards the African American man's shape, anger and protection consuming my very being,

**"Listen here you sonofabitch,"** I chew that words out with a deepened tone, taking a foolhardy step towards the man with the negative vibes, pointing an accusing finger his way,

**"You won't lay a single hair on my brothers head, and if you do-"**

**"You'll kill me? Please, Mr. Winchester. I've heard that line one too many times and look where it's gotten anyone. Clearly nowhere, seeing as I am still present in this world."**

**"Yada, yada, yada who cares? Maybe I'm different from 'anyone' else."** The smugness practically dripping from the mans features fades to a shiver-inducing stare, one that seemed too intent and interested that I swallow down the discomfort in the atmosphere,

**"I admire your bravery, Mr. Winchester but if my angelic brethren were too foolish and oblivious to defeat me, than how could mud-monkey such as yourself pose as anything greater or different?"** At that moment, I am being pressed against the opposing wall sickeningly quickly, rage and alarm being expelled by a surprised grunt as I try to force against the odd pull that kept my form against the flat structure,

**"Because unlike them, I have a conscience you bastard. And maybe even a sense of free will."** There is a blink of light that fills the room with a bright glow, and once it recedes there are fourteen foot spanned wings that brush against the far walls of my bedroom, a peculiar aura emanating from the angels being,

**"Silence, you fool."** In a moment, I am being compressed into a useless heap on the floor, my insides beginning to burn with a foreign pain unlike any other along with the searing hurt that writhed behind my eye-balls as though they were being ripped from their sockets. As I bite out an agonizing holler of consuming pain. I cry out for someone in my mind, and for hell's sakes I even _prayed_ for help. Moments serving my desperate hopes, the heat begins to numb away as an ear-shattering pulse of high pitched noise etched my consciousness from this world away once again, and then I am consumed by darkness..

**Castiel** _Lucifer's back..?_ I sub-consciously mutter under my breath, distaste and unsettlement setting into my posture to the newly received news. I blink at the repeating ordeal that rang like bells throughout my mind. If the Fallen one has truly returned, than his accomplice - a member of our former garrison - has too paid visit to this world. I bite back at the anger I begin to experience laid out towards, _Uriel_ the one who I believed to have raised the Morning Star. Long since faded memories begin to rise to the consciousness of my mind, and I close my eyes to hone in on the familiarity that begins to open up my intelligence.

_The sun was shining, the year roughly about the early eighteen thirties in our presence as I stand before my partner, Uriel who had been my acquaintance for many millennia. Though we had never truly bonded to one another as most of my angelic brethren have, we still served our righteous purpose to heaven sole fully to the will of our father. Peasants and folk of lowly standards made by the day doing their regular momentum of work, the oddly dressed humans slaving to one another's orders. I had questioned Uriel about why humans put one another unto law and enslavement, but he hadn't replied until later years passing._

_We were inspecting a breakout of a demonic plague that humans called; The Black Plague. Though man-kind was oblivious to the essence of impurity at the time, monsters roamed freely and carelessly. I still remembered that day when the first Hunter had been born, a man of rough-forties creating the worlds most useful weapon. The Colt. A legendary gun that said to hold the fate of any unlucky victims it's bullet pierced. Uriel had pulled me aside as I had sought to intervene amongst a dispute between one man to another, but hadn't gotten the chance as my arguments had been silenced by the earnest-sense in his monotone vocalization, _

_"Castiel. You must not be under the influence of these sickening creatures faults. Father created their weakness for a cause, you understand? Because you see, Castiel. We are no lower than they under Father's influence. We are mere instruments that he plays, but we gratefully comply. They play under another's demands, as we do. We are nothing more than slaves."_

The end of the memory conflicted my emotions with the rich reminder. I had been so naïve and young to the rebelling presence in my comrades words that I had listened to what he had explained, no longer attempting to step in to end inhuman acts of greed, lust, pride, gluttony, wrath, envy and sloth since that day. Though my faith within our Father remained in tact, Uriel's hadn't since the beginning. He was one of the first after Lucifer to experience, doubt.

Blinking back into the present world, I realized that Balthazar had enveloped my in a securing embrace, his imperceivable appendages brushing against my own with concern. Once he began to dawn of my reflected confusion, he released the connection and cleared his throat. I didn't understand the concept of the human tendency, but I assumed that his time on Earth had earned the angel time to be dawned upon man-made actions,

**"Balthazar.. Has Uriel too returned?"** I ask, fixing a silent stare upon my old friend who only nods in response. Something too is upsetting him, but as I intend to respond to this a familiar plea for aid fills my mind,

_'If anyone's out there, I need help! Please. Don't let him hurt my brother, don't let him! Please! Help me! Cas! Help!_ My gaze averts from Balthazar, thirty-foot spanned ebony wings spreading in response to Dean's prayers. I don't bother to glance over my shoulder, knowing that Balthazar had too heard the cries but I am too far consumed by determination to give sympathy.

My surroundings begin to zone out of frequency onto another as I am coursing through the skies at hundreds of miles as hour, the crackling echo sounding off in the distance behind my trail as I close into another dimension and appear to find the Winchester writhing upon the wooden panels with an all-too familiar shape looming over his pain-consumed form. Anger and wrath latches sinfully at my being as I surge into the reality more threateningly, tearing Uriel's touch away from the caramel-brunettes body to practically fling them across the room.

Sudden realization escalates to foreign fear across my betrayed partners features, but a smug grin then begins to etch sickeningly at his lips,

**"Should have known you were the one who was bound to show up, Castiel. I can see why Father assigned you to this man.."** I attempt to urge him forcefully to explain his words, but before I know it he disappears in a flurry of feathers. He's gone, and I'm alone..

Honing onto the single presence in the room as myself, I rush over frantically to Dean's side and fall to my knees in a determined hope to drag the man back into this world but when I press two joined fingers to the sweaty-forms forehead, I sense his soul is fleeting from existence.

My blue-eyes widen in sudden fear, a foreign emotion I haven't truly experienced for another being. - let alone a _human_ - Dean couldn't die, I can't let he and Sam down after God had willed me to the presence of his side. I would be an abomination for allowing the Righteous one to drown into the afterlife, so without a second thought my hands in a single motion dissolve the remnants of his shirt to press a now glowing palm to the Winchester's shoulder, willing my Grace to seek forth and pull the Righteous man from the impending doom of Perdition.

All at once, a pulsating glow emanates painfully from my palm, forcing the wide of my vessels cyan-oculars to glow in pain and wonder as an angels true-essence is being burned into the smooth of the man's bare skin, so soft and tender with my Fathers creation. The igniting blue aura begins to recede to a dull haze as my hand is removed slowly from the presence of the emerald-eyed mans shoulder. Where my fingers and palm had been seared upon existed a red-hand print that sent shivers that were foreign along the trail of my vessels spine.

I had marked the Righteous man.. Branded him as my own.. Tethered the power of an angels Grace to a human soul.. What had I done?

* * *

I stared at my hand endlessly as though it were an unworthy abomination, a damned essence of creation I yearned to dispose of in immediate panic. I had moments ago felt the fleeting presence of the Winchesters soul flicker off into the distance of existence, falling down deeper and deeper though before he could impact the cruel and brutality of his impending fate, I had in the non-physical grasped onto his shape, embraced the young man and pulled him from the grips of a demonic claws that had nearly torn at his divinity. Careless of my actions, the results had ended in the seer of my presence and grace into the Righteous man's shoulder, a red welt where my hand had grasped a bitter reminder of the deed I had performed.

Dumbstruck and outright terrified, I stumbled back from the Winchesters shape with majestic appendages fanning out in alarm as a breath was drawn in sharply by the freckled-beings mouth, lips parting and two lavish green of his human eyes to blink into the world of the physical. I couldn't speak, couldn't breathe and felt as though my throat had all of a sudden been choked by the realization in which tortured my essence from the fault I had committed. I was sinned, a crime and an abomination upon the holy. I awaited punishment, for my grace to combust but miraculously the strike never dwindled about me. I was astonished, and utterly confused. I had scarred this Righteous soul, tainted it with my needless grace but despite this I still flourished. Or figuratively, of course because inside, I felt as though I were at war. Conflicted by ridicule and distaste. I needed penance for this act of thoughtlessness.

I hadn't paid notice to the life that thrived within the blond-brunette, his gaze flickering about his surroundings as though it were foreign until it derisively landed upon me. But something odd was that it didn't hint that of anger, or of disrespect but that of alarm, surprise and awe. He was just as 'stumped' as I, if that's the correct usage of the term. I am once again snapped out of my daze, but I don't respond to the honey-smooth yet rough desert-dry voice that reached out to my senses. I was too shameful to pick up on the English language, and began to subconsciously mumble Enochian to myself. Cursing vulgar terms unto yours truly, and damning the devastated turmoil of my being.

Dean seemed to have picked up on my hushed wording, his structure raising from the cold and flat of the wooden panels that groaned under his weight that now towered above my own, concern and obvious question in his emerald centres,

**"Castiel?"** He asked, and the usage of my shunned full-title sent heated shivers of disgust throughout my spine. I shouldn't be accepted, be concerned for by anyone. Especially by such a pure soul, a soul stained by its own suffering and torture that had been shadowed by own greed.

When I didn't respond in any method at all, he settled down before my poorly hunched and pathetic appearance, pressing two warm and sturdy hands on my shoulders as though trying to grasp my attention. I blearily blinked and looked up towards this tainted-being, my heart dropping at the contemplation of my mark. But as I stare at it, I don't feel just the presence of disgust and shame but that of.. Pride? Now why is that?

**"Hey. Cas? Can you hear me? Cas!"** I am reawakened from my own dilemma, virid hued irises blinking with worry innocent in his tone as my shape begins to shake from the other mans actions. I avert my gaze from the everlasting scar that existed due to my egocentric plight of ripping the taller figures doom to the clutches of the field of damnation. I scanned bright, yet dull-green orbs for anything emanating anger or disgust but found not a single trace. Even as I honed in on his emotions with a caress of my grace, there wasn't a hint of distrust or odium.

Feeling my limbs relax slightly, the feathery touch of my skin begins to lean forwards sub-consciously and then I am falling into the touch of the Winchesters warm and inviting hold, my consciousness slipping from this world. Fading as I whisper the name of the damned,

**"Dean..."** I drag the name on breathlessly, weakness from ordeal I had responded to in such a frantic manner, beginning to clutch at my will and soon I am being dragged down under the snares of exhaustion.

* * *

**Dean**

There was numbness that graced my being, veiled me in a rough grain of stagnant air that crisped the burn of heat that plundered below, where I sought to impact into its fiery depths. The sensation of falling is like no other, you see because, it's when you feel yourself plunging into an endless abyss, it is those terrorizing moments that seem to legitimately claw fear into your heart and soul and inflict snippets of madness. As I fell, I screamed for Sam, screamed for his help, for him to catch me but I continued to descend into the impending void that seemed to swallow me in darkness below,

**"Sam! Help me! Anyone! Please! Help me!"** I screamed myself until my throat had begun to choke up as I endlessly drowned in shadows of sin, of dark deeds that reflected my impure past. But as I neared closer to the end of my voyage into what I guessed to be the pit-of-hell, there were arms that embraced my form, a hand cupping too tightly against the sharp of my bare shoulders until there was the sizzling of melting flesh. I uttered out cries of agony, squeezing my eyes shut from the near-unbearable pain as though my body were being ripped in two.

However, as the ablaze of heat began to cool I wrenched my neck in awe to the purity that caught and began to ascend me back towards the light above, a light that I yearned to see. I felt myself strangely at peace within this creature of lights aura, nearly lulling me off to a sleep of relaxation until the tearing returned and I was being stuffed inside of something, or more like urged. They were gentle, two cerulean eyes blinking expectantly towards me with omniscient age of knowledge that looked between me and my body.

Had I.. Died? The thought sent an uncertain shudder along the mentally physical part of my mind, but I swallow it down and nod before stopping myself and looking towards the form that watched me with such affection, such.. Such admiration and hope that I hadn't understood what I had done next.

Approaching the being of pure light, I wrap an arm around what I presume to be its neck and plant my lips against a non-existent theirs. The beauty was huge, but with it being hunched over before me I could easily let my mouth meet theirs with sincerity and gratitude. As I part my lips from its own, I take a moment to take in the entire dignified appearance of my saviour and eye the two extra heads which seemed to be that of an ox and the other a zebra. It had gigantic ebony wings, flakes of ivory and metallic specks acting as stars. I could picture this things wings being similar to that of the galaxy, bestowing such grace and wonder, yet an astonishing wisdom. They regarded me quietly, unresponsive to my gesture and I smile at its naivety silence, only to turn away and venture towards my physical body and when I did, I gave one last longing glance the majesties way before melting back into my body.

Air sharply entered my lungs as my eyes blinked back into existence, recalling the moment I had pressed an impure grace upon such a purifying being. I remembered feeling that I felt myself being cleansed just by being enveloped in its celestial embrace. I didn't know what it was, who it was, and why it saved me but as I take several deep intakes of oxygen to my being, I come to realize that off to my left there planted a cyan-eyed man, dishevelled locks and unruly bunched up wings that resembled that of the galaxy.

They were familiar, but as I try to press on the thought, the memory of my saviour begins to fade from the presence of my mind. I flinch with displeasure at the lack of understanding of the situation, but don't hesitate to make my frantic way over to Castiel who was on his knees, head dipped and mumbling an unidentifiable language,

**"Castiel?"** I had asked, receiving no response from him at all whatsoever to my voice, taking his form and shaking it back and forth as though it would snap the angel out of his self-tormenting trance,

**"Hey. Cas? Can you hear me? Cas!"** I repeat this two more times, trying desperately to meet my Guardian's opaline gaze that seemed distant and absolutely lifeless. Moments after he responds with stirring a little, his eyes falling upon something and I can almost see fear ignite within his blue pools. I let out a relieved breath, whispering out something along the lines of sounding like, _thank goodness_ but I would never admit it. Yea, over my dead body - quite literally. I was about to release his shoulders, comprehending the state he lingered in until I could feel each muscle under my hands sudden loosen. At first, I assume that his tension faded and was beginning to subside from the apathetic deadness in his once-bright blue irises.

I am about to ask if he was alright, but as his shape begins to fall forwards I tense in surprise and discomfort before realizing he had fainted from what I can assume to be; exhaustion,

**"Cas? Cas!"** I bark my dark tone into his face, eyes closed and each tendon limp from unconsciousness. Cursing self-consciously under my breath I wrap my arms around his waist, under both arms and begin to hoist him up onto his feet with great effort. Seeing that he isn't stirring, I grunt to myself as his head comes to rest against my shoulder with head tilted towards my neck. The mans warm breath ghosts across the pale and clammy-feel of my skin and I shudder at the awkward stance we were in.

Feeling my heart lurch as I attempt to drag that angelic-being over to my bed, I back up and hope to be able to get him onto the mattress by doing so but am taken strongly aback as the dark-haired figure limply falls against my form. I gasp and grunt in discomfort, not at all liking the position we were in. I try my best for the next minute to get the other being off of me, and prevail just as Sam wanders into the room with a ghostly-pale appearance to his features. I must have something on my face, because the smug grin that tugs to the corners of my brothers lips is enough to say that I was probably flustered.

I eye him once Cas plops against the soft of my bed, his shape in awkward positions but I don't seek to try and fix them. If the guy wants to fall asleep on me - practically - then he's gotta pay for it. Not just _anyone_ collapses into the arms of Dean Winchester and gets away with it.

No one.

* * *

**Castiel**

Iridescent lighted poured like a flush into the darkened room where I had laid siege to under the influence of wrath upon a past comrade. My mind pulsated in unimaginable waves, either sides of my cranium pounding with some foreign agony that I winced when my body had began to function once again. However, as my upper torso began to lift up off what I presumed to be a mattress there were hands suddenly pushing me down. With a still-hazy perception, my blue-eyes blinked uncertainly towards a blurry figure, taking a few moments to process who stood over my bedside with concerned hazel-irises. It was Sam.

Narrowing my eyes curiously and cautiously, I helplessly complied to his wishes, straining to gaze at the relaxed Winchester,

**"Samuel?"** My voice was unnaturally cracked, bitterly dry to my liking. It was an unpleasant feeling that coaxed itself into my body, but I knew very little of my own condition at the moment to heal myself to whatever magnitude.

In response to my voice, the burnet-haired male's brows knit together with clear sympathy and dislike to whatever I had done or said. Feeling my own features begin to narrow with an unknown frustration and utter naivety the tall figure let out a silent huff of air, staring back down at my shape with an unreadable expression - which was surprising because, I could peer into ones mind to contemplate whatever emotions humans were feeling. Perhaps somehow, the Winchester was different,

**"Please, just call me Sam.."** Ah, that was what he had been referring to it regards to the drop in positive vision. Nodding a little awkwardly, I let my cerulean gaze slip from his features - which I had been silently observing - to fix it upon the ceiling, my head dipping displeasingly deep into the pillow of whoever bed it belonged to,

**"Cas?"** A deeper voice asked, a familiar one that I rued to hear once again. Closing my eyes tight with disobedient negativity generated towards my being, I am forced self-consciously to respond to the eldest Winchesters tone with pained, cyan eyes. I was ashamed, and completely disgusted in myself to taint such a pleasant being. Penance is what I deserved, and certainly not the hospitality of these two men I knew very little, yet so much about. When raising the Righteous man from the clutches of Perdition, I had peered into the glory and captivating beauty of his soul, a reflective green that mirrored the sheer brilliance of alluring irises manufactured so carefully and proudly by the Host,

**"Yes, Dean..?"** My voice came out hushed, and unnaturally low. Sam seemed to notice this, the boys form shifting slightly left to right until meeting gazes with his kin. A shallow conversation passed between the brothers, and I willed myself to not hone in and eavesdrop seeing as it would be low and nonetheless shameful than I already was. Looking over however with a brief glance, a nod was exchanged between the Winchester's before Sam left in an expectantly, rushed manner.

Swallowing down a wad of saliva at the settling discomfort in the room, I fixed my still-unwavering attention towards the burnet-blond, his features mixed and contorted with several emotions. From what I could read, there were frames of awkwardness and uneasiness, yet between the crevices of his mind there hid a serene gratitude for whatever reason. There was no logical explanation to be gracious for my sinful act, being the one that had an unrighteous burn of my non-physical presence into the mans sun-licked flesh. A constant reminder of how my irrationality resulted to the FBI agents permanent memory of my hand being seared into his skin. I quivered uneasily at the thought, remembering how I could still feel the way his cries of agony had coursed throughout my true-being - which he evidently could perceive without being mutilated beyond repair. But then again, he had been dead and had nothing much to lose - and rendered me weak in the aftermath of the quick expedition into hell.

Perdition's memoir flickered in the back of my mind, still able to touch and feel the way his lips had been pressed against my absent-own. The way warmth tethered at my Grace and had blended into his soul for a brief memento before it had been all over. Completely a loss for contemplation and a response, I had through bright, unblinking metallic irises as he returned to the physical being of his true-shape,

**"Hey Cas? You with me?"** A voice invaded the unconscious space of my mind, two fingers snapping together to make popping noises before my bleared-irises of a perplexing blue hue. Blinking back into the presence of the moment at hand, I titled my head off to the right out of confusion to the gesture and what he had said,

**"What?"** I blurted mindlessly, an abnormal flare of heat igniting patches of iridescent redness beginning to settle into the flush at the back of my neck. Though the feeling was foreign, I simple-mindedly dismissed it but was only to be taken aback once again as a humorous and almost-amused chuckle drowned out my reply,

**"Dean?"** I asked, concern evident in my gravelly-tone but the taller figure continued to childishly laugh away for some unknown cause. Shifting into a position so I could eye him more clearly and comfortably, Deans humorous gleam behind twin, virid irises began to recede and I was almost disappointed to see it disappear to the dull visage they originally were. Eyes so drugged with the perception of negativity that I began to express pity upon the average human. At the word choice, I frown with vexation clearing the worry in my features. Of all ways to describe Dean Winchester, 'ordinary' or, 'average' most certainly was not one of them.

At my sudden action of silence and gesture of regarded fondness, the burnet-blond seemed to smile for a fraction of a second, a very faint quirking up of the lips before a frown was plastered across his characteristics,

**"Nothing, you're just really awkward y'know?"** I blink, cluelessness becoming me all at once. I didn't understand what he meant, so I just shift around until my back was straightened and my shoulders squared even. Seeming to sense my unsettled state, he begins to move about restlessly with his back still pressed firm against the walls of the farmhouse room, the opal-hued wallpaper beginning to peel with age,

**"What is the matter?"** I ask, concern set adrift to flow endlessly in the gruff deepness of my voice. Though Jimmy - my vessels true name - had a voice of a higher pitch, my own had overcome his and had eventually coaxed itself into one another to create a gravelly voice that was yet strangely smooth and soft. I was a younger angel within my garrison, yet I stood superior over many of my angelic-brethren. Recently climbing to that of a justifiable hierarchy amongst the angels. Being that of a middle-tier wave length of celestial intent had its perks, along with that of simplified abilities to that of resurrection as I had prioritized my abilities upon the Winchester. Such foolishness.

Letting out a needless huff of air that I did not require, the substantial amount of relaxation that had moments ago, coursed throughout my very being long since faded to a dull thrum of anxiety and a reminder of my egotistical aspiration.

It wasn't until a hand came to fall warm against the crook of my shoulder did I snap back into the conscious dimension, drifting my head up-right to watch forlornly up to the emerald-eyed characteristics of a man, my pellucid onyx plumed appendages being melded into existence before I honed in elsewhere and disappeared from the presence of the Winchester household. But before I left, I could have sworn I heard my name being called. A hand reaching out to grasp and drag me down before I had blinked out.

I must have been mistaken.

* * *

**Dean**

Driving desolate fingers to dig into the clean-shaved mans arm, narrowing my eyes before they're distracted by the low hum of ruffling as wings began to shape into existence. Captured by their enticing serenity for a brief moment before I feel myself stumble into the empty bed, my hands bringing fistfuls of sheet into my arms as I tumble against the mattress unstably.

Letting out a low and irritated grunt, my bright hued irises darken a deeper shade of virid green before narrowing with ill aggravation. _The damn ass couldn't at least stay a minute to explain himself?_ My mind bitterly mutters to itself over and over, clogging my temples with irascible contemplations and foreign expressions that crisscrossed my characteristics in fluent, yet peculiar motives.

Someone's throat clears behind me, and I am whirling around sheepishly to meet my brothers gaze who's brows are up with clear amusement smug across his features,

**"Shut up."** I warn him dangerously with a hiss, standing upright and passing by Sam with an indescribable emotion toying with my thoughts. He let out a solemn little grunt in response, bringing his hands up in defence before calling after me,

**"Dean."** He breathes out, I turn back to face him with flushed cheeks. But I'm not embarrassed, or angry. Nah, that's understatement. I was downright pissed! I mean, who the hell gets saved by two guys - in which one of them allows the bastard to snooze like sleeping beauty in their damn bed - then ditches? That asshole, and I swear the next time I see him..

**"Dean!"** Tight hands are rapped around my shoulders, squeezing into the tender flesh on my left shoulder with brooding intensive eyes boring into mine. I shake him off, snapping back with a bitterly rash,

**"What?!"** I'm about to loose it,

**"The hell do you want from me Sam? To say, 'I'm sorry'? Well, hate to burst your bubble, ****princess but it's time to put faith in something that actually matters!"** The moose charges passed me unconfidently, throwing his arms in the air before whirling around to growl right on through,

**"You know what I just don't get you, man! One moment, you're in a semi-decent mood, the next a pissy teenager-one and now this? Something is wrong, and I can't keep doing this Dean! I hate arguing and fighting with you, I hate that you drink away all your 'problems' instead of talking to your own family. I hate that you still believe you're not worth believing in, that you don't matter! I'm sick of your damn, shit-faced attitude."**

I blink at him, completely taken aback by the length and cuss-quality of his response. Sam didn't swear often, but when he did.. You knew that shit just got real. I feel unnaturally uncomfortable, and what is that.. A hint of shame? No, I'm Dean Winchester and there' no way that I'm,

**"So man-up, grow a pair or whatever and talk or so help me.."** Giganto looks as though he wants to punch something, judging by the way his fists clench and unclench with absolute fury. I haven't seen Sammy this mad since.. Well since he and dad had that fight, involving the one where he took off because he wanted to be 'normal' and not be the freak in the family for once because, we don't really have a regular-life. Sam never wanted to be the, 'boy with the alcoholic father'.

Running a hand through my short amber hairs, the gesture rather soothing and calming for some odd reason. But I never was one for the, touchy feely relationships. Ever. Hell drag me down under if I did, but.. Been there, done that right?

**"Want me to talk? Fine, but I need a drink first."** This was my problem, and as much as I'd hate to admit it, I was slowly but surely turning into my father. An old drunk who'll have nothing to live for, for the rest of my life and this time I'll lose Sam because - as much I regret saying this - he's the closest thing I got, and is the one thing that gets me to hold onto.. Well, living. But I guess I wasn't really living If I drank a bottle dry each week and did a piss-poor job at work. I was just like dad, and inside, deep inside of Sammy. He knows that too. Maybe that's why he constantly insists on me trying to open up, but I never have been someone for the 'feelings-talk' or whatever the hell they call it.

The tall burnet simply nods, cooling off on steam just a tad before I grin a little cheekily, brushing past his abnormally large sharp and trudging a little sluggishly down the steps.

If I know Sam by now, he'd follow me just in case I fucked off somewhere in the meantime of my conditioning, but to hell with that idea. I was tired, and had nothing left over to run stream on. My 'mojo' was completely drained, but in a matter of hours I'd be back up to speed, if I hadn't transformed into a girl after our little 'talk'.

* * *

**Sam**

Dean had always been awful at hiding his emotions, well normally that is. It's been bugging me for a while now, and I couldn't bring myself to believe that all these years of constant prying to crack him open and free the guy of whatever ate at his well-being, would just settle out like that. It was too good to be true, y'know.

For the first few minutes, I was tempted to call Cas but then I realize that I had no idea how or that it was a good idea. Call it a hunch, but I figured that his mood-swing was all at cause to the guy but I had no clue what happened between them. It seemed that ever since the angel invaded our lives, it's made Dean more skittish. Actually, it was like a teenager obsessing over her crush but of all people.. Dean wouldn't get the 'magical feeling' over a dude, let alone an 'Angel of the lord' as Castiel so proudly puts it.

Dismissing these thoughts, I let a breath pass through my lips, heat radiating off my harm as though the anger I had unharnessed was already beginning to seep from my bones. Honestly, I hated being angry but it was hard to feel anything else when you a had a dick for a brother. Downstairs, I come to find myself stupefied that Dean had actually kept his word or whatever and was sitting comfortably in the seat of a rundown couch, his dark greens eyeing me for something, anything. After a while, I cleared my throat and made my over, ignoring the comment of him calling me 'Alice' and contently settling down on the couch on the far left of where he sat, eyes wide and profoundly curious as to whatever he was going to say. But I wasn't prepared for what spilled out,

**"It's Cas."** The words are mumbled, low and raspy as though he couldn't believe himself for saying it. It took me a few moments to understand and contemplate what he had said, taking deep thought into the peculiar notion of information before he rolled his eyes and sat back further heatedly into the cushion of his seat, gaze shifting elsewhere awkwardly,

**"Oh."** His brows narrow,

**"'Oh'? I say one of the gayest things ever and all you got is, 'oh'? Hell no, get on with the damn queer jokes and shit like that, or, or that it's wrong or something dammit!"** I am shocked by his desperate pleas to be mocked. Who'd want to be mocked for practically 'coming out' exactly? Sure, I had suspected that he and Cas had something odd between them, but never had I imagined it like.. This,

**"Sorry, I'm just surprised that's all."** I probably look dumb and sound stupid saying this, but I was happy to hear anything come out of my brother. It was better than being wound up tighter than a wind-up toy. I sure as hell couldn't manage what he has,

**"Surprised? The hell you mean by that?"** Ignoring the rashness in his voice, I pity him subconsciously in the absent section of my mind. He was probably beating on himself for admitting such a great deal, and harbouring such a 'girly-emotion' or whatnot and however he put it in that messed up mind of his,

**"Nothing, it's just that of all things you decide to tell me about how you feel about someone, or at least kind of. That's it."** I smile genuinely, my brows knitting together with sympathy but no matter how much I try to convince my brother that it was okay to feel this way, I knew that deep down he'd keep beating himself up about it. Deciding against this, I continue,

**"Like, what do you mean? What do you feel when you're around him..?"** It's more awkward than I expect it to sound, but Dean nevertheless shrugs and clasps his palms together, rubbing the heels nervously as though trying to find a suitable response to make the situation less-awkward,

**"Well for one thing, it's not how I feel around a woman that's for sure. But there's just this.. Thing that just pokes at me every time he does something. Kind of like the other-other little brother I never wanted."** His gaze shifts into the distance, captured by something seemingly interesting as though meeting my eyes would burn his own out or something.

My mouth gapes open, a light chuckle passing through my lips,

**"What? You f-ing laughing at me, you ass?"** Though the question isn't significantly irritated or guilty, I stop my low chuckles and clear my throat from non-existent phlegm,

**"No, no! It's just, it's just really nice actually that you seem happy or at least mildly amused of something other than me.."** His gaze shifts back and focuses on me, death arrows practically stabbing me all over. Uh oh.. There's the snap,

**"You know what, fuck you for that."** My frown deepens with confusion as to what I said was wrong, but I didn't feel like it was my place to question whatever ran through Dean's mind. I knew my brother had never been quite experienced in telling people how he felt, but it had to happen one day right?

**"Okay, sorry.."** I look up in hopes of meeting the shorter mans eyes but found them wandering and doing everything in their power from meeting mine. Perhaps there was still hope for the broken shell of a man I saw in him. There just needed to be someone good enough, and strong him enough to raise him from this state. The person inside that was hidden under lock and key that seemed to be impossible to open. He just needed that one thing that no one has ever offered him. And that was faith.

**"Pssh, last time I 'open' my heart up to you Sammy. Next time, I'm ordering us some cowboy junkies on the dial, then we can sip on some herbal tea and watch 'say yes to the dress'."** A smug-ass grin twitches plastically to the corners of his lips. He's putting on the tough-act, brushing it off as though it were nothing. Typical,

**"Y'know what? Think I'll have that beer now."**


	4. A meeting with the Devil

**A/n;; Apologies for the short chapter! The muse just comes and goes, unfortunately.**

**Disclaimer;; I do NOT own Supernatural or it's majestic characters. I only provide the story-line, here.**

* * *

**Dean**

_Honestly, I had no idea what Sam would have expected out of me. _My mind wanders, the conscious side taking another long pull of bland alcohol that left a bitter taste at the back of my throat, but I liked it anyways. _Why was it because of Cas I acted so differently? _I can't begin to understand and begin to question all possible theory's that even a Winchester like me could manage, but then again that was Sammy's job. The smart role, that is. I guess I had always been the brawn or whatever the hell kids call it these days.

I'm not stupid, that much I know but I sure as hell don't come close to the collegiate level my brother ranks at. He did go to Stanford after all, and I in my early adult years had become a mere mechanic. Someway, somehow I had managed to wiggle my sorry-ass onto the force. Even I did a piss poor job at that.

Dismissing the negativity with a breathy exhalation of air, I glance over to where my brother still sat, his head buried into the palms of his hands and shoulders tense, as though something could spring out at the guy at any moment. A smart-ass comment dwindles in the back of my mind, but I decide not to act like an ass for at least an hour or two. Until then, I'd let Sammy do his PMS-ing or whatever..

Shaking my head from the useless deals that plagued the cortex of my mind, I rub two fingers against the bridge of my nose with a loud exhale passing through my lips, my chest rising and falling in short raps. All of this 'ewy-gooey' feelings talk was beginning to upset my stomach. Literally, I felt like I was going to throw up but then again that could be from a whole different array of other things. As I dwindle on the thought, the reminder that I hadn't once thought or brought up the absent presence of Bobby and the others weighed my shoulders down with guilt. How could I forget about three of the most important people in my life? Bobby, being one of them.

The though of the cranky old drunk cussing at my brother and I lightens my pinched features with a small smile. He had been the fatherly figure to Sam and I, since our dad didn't give two shits to try. He did, for the first little while but eventually all that depressing grief seemed to catch up to us. Since our mom died, he has never been the same. Believe me, I know. I remember us going out occasionally, but constantly being moved around to do so because of his constant 'lack-of-work' as he put it. I was about thirteen when it really began to dawn on me just how broken the guy was. Rundown, nothing but a mobile with a blown-out gasket at a point of no return.

Bobby had been there to replace, John. He was the one that made Sam and I feel like kids again, rather than being the Winchester boys who constantly moved, knew martial arts and how to shoot a gun. Sure, we're not you're average family - even more now, than before - but we were.. Happy, I guess. I mean, who else gets to say that they have their own personal guardian angel watching over them?

At the thought of the dishevelled haired angel, so clueless and innocent almost makes my features brighten but I swallow the feeling down with rash bitterness. I didn't want to believe that I had anything along the lines of emotional vulnerability towards the guy, because it just.. It wasn't right, especially for me. I mean, he's an angel and I'm some poor excuse for a human. At the mention, I sneer and take another long sip of my beer, downing the stale alcoholic beverage with a grim expression cloaking my characteristics drawn into a frown. I was a sad excuse for a man, a being. I didn't know what was so special about me, or why this apparent, 'God' wanted me alive and to be protected. I mean, I understood Sam being of great importance, because he was to me but c'mon, you've got to be kidding me.

**"I assure you, Dean that the lord does not 'joke'." **A husky voice interrupted me from my thoughts, and I whirled around in response with my fists clenched into tight balls. I was ready to attack, and smash the glass of the empty bottle against the counter as a weapon, but as I recognized the oddly relaxed and naïve features of the metallic eyed angel, I begin to settle but only slightly. I still wasn't fond of the guy sneaking up on me like that,

**"I swear I will get you a freaking bell to go around your neck if you keep doing that." **I bite out, frowning a little deeper than I already was, turning away to toss the emptied glass into the box with a satisfied grunt that it didn't shatter when it tumbled inside, too lazy to properly place it inside. Hey, I wasn't anyone's little house-maid in an apron for gods-sakes. Especially to myself, for one thing.

I return back to rest my back against the smooth, yet hard of the counters edge with realization beginning to click into my mind unsettling slowly,

**"Wait, how the hell.. Hey, can you read my f-ing mind?" **It comes out a little more harsh than I intended it to be, but really? One dude - especially this one - doesn't invade another's privacy of mental contemplation. I'm pretty sure that's what we could call 'rude' but, it wasn't like he understood the concept of the term anyways. Right?

**"Umm.. My apologies." **Wait, did he seem a little.. Guilty? _Huh..._ I huff out the response silently, my brows lifting very slightly before I direct my attention elsewhere, doing everything in my power to avoid the intense stare of Castiel,

**"So where the hell did you fly off to anyways?" **I ask, honest interest setting into the cascade of my features but I do my best to not seem like so much of a nerd about it. That was Sam's job, after all.

A few antagonizing and awkwardly-silenced seconds later, the angel of the lord - who looks like he's about to take a crap, frowning that much - comes to the simple conclusion of saying,

**"Heaven.. I, I needed to receive furthers orders in regards to Uriel's whereabouts and case." **_Uriel? Was that the dick that attacked me? _I wonder, memories of a terribly painful heat radiating throughout my brain and innards beginning to fade back into mind, flinching at the way I had been consumed by utter darkness, darkness revolved in layers upon layers of scarlet, a bloody sheen. It was like.. It was like I had been in, hell but that's not possible right? I mean, if I had been to hell I would remember it and I wouldn't be here, right? Still though, I can't shake off this feeling that bubbles at the bottom of my gut, screaming with nuisance that I was missing an important detail. Like my memory had been somewhat.. Altered or something.

Returning back to the physical world, I eye Cas with narrowing brows of curiosity as I read sudden anxiousness crisscross the serious roughness of his features. Scanning blue eyes for any hints of what might be ram shacking the angel-mans custard to make him this antsy, but came up with nothing,

**"Oh, right." **I trail off a little dumbly, biting my bottom lip and hoping that he would snap out of whatever had caused him to stiffen up like this. It was growing a little too quite for my liking between us, and before I could add, my brothers - being the bitch he is - just so happens to walk in, his brows etching up and blinking between me and Castiel - who's still consumed by silence.

**"Oh, umm.. Hi Castiel." **If I didn't know better, I could guess that red peppered very delicately across my brothers cheeks, almost as though he was.. Flustered? Nah, no way. Sammy had little ol' Jess - who I loved, very, very much - and was as straight as an arrow. Than again, it could be some harmless man crush. I mean, Cas was kind of.. Well, he wasn't _bad-looking_ for one - don't say anything about this, EVER - and had this angelic radiance or whatever pulsing off of him. Yup, my little Sammy was head over heels for an angel. Huh, never thought I'd say that.

It was at that moment did the damn guy snap out of his daze, a soft greeting nod responding to the Moose's sudden company, looking between me and him once, twice before looking off towards the window. Silence once again grew between us, and I swear to god if It happened again I would storm out of them screaming. Quiet and patience wasn't exactly my, 'strong suit'.

**"So ugh, Cas.. How are you? I mean, I saw how drained you were and.."** Thankfully, Castiel's gaze softens in understanding. Sam was good at talking - which Is better than I could ever say for me - but sometimes he just got caught up in his own words, and lost the will for conversation,

**"I appreciate you're concern, Samuel but I am well.. I assume that Uriel could have possibly got at my grace and tainted it faintly, which explains my peculiar 'black-out' as you may call it. It's nothing to become concerned over."**_Samuel? _A smug smirk begins to quirk to the corner of my lips. Hearing my little bro being called by his -technically - full name made me want to laugh. It sounded old, which explains the fact that it came from our grandfather,

**"Please, call me Sam." **He responds fairly quickly, completely ignoring the blue-eyed mans words. At that moment, Castiel seems to be a little a hesitant, gathering himself and standing a little taller to the sudden outburst. I would guess that he felt a little hurt, but who'd want to be called, Samuel?

**"And shut the hell up Dean, it's not like I'm named after an old lady." **My grin and laugh douses to a dope-y, wide-eyed stare. It was as though Sam read my mind. I cringe lightly at the mention of the origin to my name, letting out an unnecessarily loud sigh before moodily looking off to glare elsewhere. Yes, my grandmothers name was Deanna. I was just the shortened version of the name. It was kind of embarrassing, but what were you to do?

**"Well for being name after our grandma, I am still one hell of a womanizer."** I retorted, subconsciously puffing out my chest a little to add the extra effect or whatever.

As Sam and I continued to bicker about our names and his damn long hair, we completely forgot about the angels presence in the room and hadn't noticed it when he had wandered off somewhere else.

* * *

**Castiel**

There was an impending feeling of disappointment that filled my chest. The sensation was odd and amusing, but I paid very little attention to it as the Winchester kin continued to snap and claw at one another through verbal abuse. I know that if it became a physical matter, I would step in to intervene but it wasn't my business in regards to whatever the two ranted on about.

Leaving the bitter atmosphere of the opal-hued pantry, I stalk into the living area and observe the dusty furniture scattered aimlessly about the wide room. It wasn't exactly a cleanly household, but it was what the two boys always referred to as; home. As I begin to ponder about the wonders of having a home, the thought of heaven comes to mind and all of its divinity coursing throughout the membranes of the alternate world. A world create by our father. Though at his mention, I frown a little deeper and pace over towards a sofa towards the far end of the room, letting my weight collapse a little unsteadily against the sinking comfort of the chair. For a second, my breath catches in my throat as I feel the odd sensation of falling embed itself into the depths of my heart, settling as I relax into the warm of the recliner.

Though I know very little about human necessities and mechanisms, I am aware of how to function the wooden, and stuffing-filled fixture but do not attempt to adjust myself into further comfort. The visit here would be temporary, only to flee elsewhere once again. I did my very best to leave the Winchesters be, and act against my will to be in their company because than I would begin to express emotions. You see, spending time with man-kind gradually begins to grow onto an angels grace, humanizing its fissures and crevices slowly but surely before the being of celestial intent would begin to express emotion. It was a sin, or rather an unpleasant doing because then it lead the celestial beings to the access of doorways to doubt.

Doubt was an offence towards heaven, a punishable one. I recalled many, yet fading memories, of my former angelic comrades within my Garrison being exposed to humans two-thousands years ago, which was the reason for the seizing of existence to our kind for two millennia. A handful of angels, including a Seraph had begun to express human emotions and for that, they were punished terribly. Stripped of their ranks, and wings for the time being as penance for nearly a century. It was during those times when harmony was at its greatest, until now as the man of Righteous blood had been born.

I recalled many millennia ago when my former superior, Anna had explained to me all she had to know about man. She told me that they were foolish, yet beautiful creations of our father. They lacked in understanding towards the natural order, but were always pure in their own individual methods. I had told her that such index of these puny creatures were along the lines of blaspheme, describing the beings as something more than that of mortal and that of magnificence than we were. I was young, and questioned very little until that one occasion. I was always the docile angel amongst my brethren, silent and open to any order and willing to carry them out. Anna had shed her influence on me in my youngest burdens of childish livelihood, rearing to become a more sincere and caring brother amongst our thousands.

At my sisters memory, I almost begin to express clutches of sadness but it is dismissed as I begin to contemplate on the fact that Dean's mind already beginning to unwind the recollection of his brief voyage into hell. Though he had been that of the deceased for about ten minutes, Perdition still harboured its own specific shadows that could wriggle its way into the mind of its victims, plaguing it with false hallucinations and altered membranes of pain and suffering. Equivalent to an hour in the pit, an hour of complete darkness and endless falling Dean had been scarred, no matter how little or how briefly.

That is why my voyage into hell had been so reckless and disgustingly foolish, explaining the present burn of my hand-print seared into the smooth beauty of his slightly freckled skin. Scratching and clawing into the entrances of chilling darkness, my wings had been mangled and snapped at by the vicious wrath of nearby demons. Though I had managed to smite many of the abominable, they had left a unmistakeable tear near the base of my right appendage, tearing out several of its once, lush and sheen ink-blackened feathers as the result of my self-satisfactory. Why I had so fearfully clutched him tight, and raised him from perdition.

What still puzzled me though about it all, was why he had delivered gratefulness unto me by that of a locking of lips. Though the sensation was chaste, it had thrummed throughout my grace for many long moments afterwards. I knew that I would forever grasp onto that moment, cherish it with all of my being because I was certain that Dean would never grace a gesture of affection like such upon me ever again.

I close my cyan eyes, trying my best to drown out the loud thoughts that coursed throughout the stems and veins of my chemistry. It was true that I altered the Winchesters memory into forgetting Hell, and me rescuing him but if he continued to pick at the poorly-frail wall, it would crumble and the foraged memories of the shadows that children were informed to not be afraid of, would sweep throughout the mans very creation. My true form could be overwhelming as well, and for that I was curiously intrigued by why he could perceive my pure visage down under, though not the absoluteness of my celestial voice in the physical dimension.

I guess the lord did work in mysterious ways, especially in that of creating Dean Winchester.

* * *

**Dean**

I stomp out of the room with angry eyes, and a red pigmented colour smeared across my characteristics as I retreat into the living area with a look that could kill.

Sam had stepped over the damn line and had brought up my 'confession' about Cas. Nearly knocking his sorry, white ass on the floor then and there I had bit down a bitter retort about his gay obsession and left without another world. Itching, and I mean just yearning to beat down on something I hardly notice the set of cerulean blue optics that blinked lazily at my fuming form from that rundown armchair across the room, his expression rather contorted with irritating confusion and concern.

Snorting rashly in his direction, I stride past with my hands delved into the pockets of my leather jacket before ripping open the front door and passing through it with blazing emerald irises. In a mood like this, there was very little than could calm me down. Not even pie or porn could douse the fury that dwelled within me at that moment, to succumbed to the bitter strength of my rage.

It was sad actually, that I could give in to such powerful emotions so simply like a snap of a finger. I didn't like being mad, to be honest but it was either be angry or be depressed and trust me, I've been there. I've been in a position where I sat alone, a bottle in my hand with lightless eyes and nine millimetre fitted perfectly into my hand. It was as though it fitted there perfectly, and I vowed to myself that;_ 'If I'm going to die, It's going to be me with a gun in my hand'._

Almost grunting with flat humour to the mention of my, oh-so-sad-past as I walk down the length of the trail through the back of the farm houses yard, a string of paths leading to the docks of a silent and still lake not far from the moss-green tiled building. I went there when I became consumed by whatever strong emotion decided to rise to the surface of the physical membranes of the real world, sat on the edge of the dock with my toes running through the smooth surface of the body of waters coolness and just listened to the melodic chatter of birds, and humming of crickets all around.

Though I felt no pull towards movement at the moment, I compelled my muscles to function and begin to ten-minute trek toward my 'place of zen' or whatever its called.

It wasn't until the sun had begun to descend against the horizon to leave a soothing smear of fiery-y red and yellow-y hues across the stretch of the darkening sky, light peppering shades of fuchsia and lavender painting the world beyond with an embrace of warm colours, did I arrive at the edge of the sun-warmed boards of the dock, breaking down my form to relax against the uncomfortable yet comforting feel of the wood against my back. And though I would seize to ever admit it, I enjoyed watching the sunset. Watching as colour would dance across the infinite void of blue, observing carefully as it would delve into the darker shades of black and blue.

I had removed my boots and peeled off sweaty socks, tossing them behind me with a satisfied grunt as I skimmed pale feet against the once-still surface of the fresh-water.

Something about this place always manage to banish the dark that dwelled within the emptiness of my chest, filling that broken hole with warmth and welcoming light that would steam away the anger. I knew Sam meant well, and I may have been a little rash about well.. Everything, but he should know when enough is enough. I am the big brother after all. _His _big brother.

At the title I could actually, proudly hold a smile affectionately plays to the corners of my lips as my muscles tenseness fades away to leave each tendon feeling like jell-o.

However, as a familiar fluttering of what I depicted to be wings sounded into the still of the afternoon atmosphere my smile very faintly broadens but I keep my eyes shut, letting the heat and light of the sun shine through closed lids and leave blotches of red scattering in patches across my vision.

We stood in silent vigil for a couple minutes, letting the comforting sounds of nature envelop our world until I manage out a raspy greeting,

**"I think I'm beginning to get used to you sneaking up on me, Cas."** It comes out as more of a whisper, but I know he's heard me as the weight of the angel begins to groan against the wood of the dock, a light scuffling sounding off to my left signalling that he has taken a seat next to my stationary and relaxed structure. Lifting a brow once hearing no response, I blink open my virid green eyes to cold blue eyes boring into my own, dishevelled blond locks falling just slightly across his soft characteristics. He regards me silently, a very small and too cold smile plays across the mans lips,

**"Hello, Dean. I'm sorry, but I am not your friend 'Cas' you speak of."**The being responded, looking up with curious and sincere metallic irises at my now-risen form, an immediate response to the strangers unwelcoming presence. My knuckles are white from being balled into tight fists, unusually tense for some odd reason before I breath out a below-zero, cold huff of air. I can literally see the oxygen pass through my lips in a billow of near see-through steam.

Sucking in anther breath, the air in my lungs suddenly at a loss as I choke on the arctic chilled air, the oxygen levels too cold my liking and necessities. It's as though my entire insides were beginning to slow from the shallowly nippy atmosphere around the two of us, leaving the tendons in my legs to cripple and before I know it, I am on me knees before the figure now towering about me,

**"I've heard much about you.. And I must be honest, you seem a lot more intriguing than I have been informed.." **A serpent-like grin sneaks to the corners of his lips, an icy touch of hands reaching to cup my cheeks. I try to gesture away, green eyes wild and vibrating from the uncontrollable spasm of shivers coursing throughout my veins. I flinch as absolute winter's kissed, cold hands come into contact of my goose bump risen skin.

I try to speak, but am choked up from the frigid air that I am slowly but surely giving into. Even my thoughts are frozen solid, left to wander in desolate silence, never to be identified until being thawed from this storm that is chaotic across my body.

I am trying to blink, but find that my eyelids are glued open and are wild with obvious, human-fear. At this new, and non-foreign emotion he seems to smile a little wider, a pair of wintry-kissed lips coming to rest against my forehead, sending a trail of goose bumps to rise against the nape of my neck once again. Breaking into a cold sweat, I swallow helplessly when the blond decides to speak again, this time with his lips just barely grazing my ear,

**"How rude of me.. My apologies, I haven't even introduced myself.." **The 's' comes off a sharp hiss, and I wince at the numbness that prickles against the red of my ears. I am flustered in both ways possible, because.. Well, first off, this guy shows out of no where and practically freezes you than kisses your forehead? Yea, I bet you'd be a little surprised and embarrassed too. However, as I attempt to continue to carry out whatever I was busy contemplating, there is a hand tipping my head up and I am forced to crane my gaze to stare at the blue-eyed man. Conflict swimming through his baby-blue irises that are nothing like Cas's, because Castiel's is much more warm and welcoming.. Beautiful and alluring, but there were cold and ambitious.. Lost and sad. I'd almost feel bad for the guy, but am cut off from any mental connections when his below zero-voice comes out as a sharp rasp against my ear, chilled oxygen pressing against my lob and the tips, reddening further upon contact,

**"My name is, Lucifer.."**


End file.
